


Dancing On The Edge

by Becci Barnes (BeccEEE)



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Art, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Hockey Player Steve Rogers, M/M, NHL, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Young Bucky Barnes, Young Tony Stark, a lot of minor apperances, bucky and steve share a flat, but mostly comics, can you spot the cameos, comic-mcu-hybrid universe, dressing room pining, figure skater tony stark, figure skating, figure skating AU, hockey player bucky barnes, ice hockey, no powers au, pairs skating, steve having a crush, there is art now omfg, young Steve rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeccEEE/pseuds/Becci%20Barnes
Summary: Being an aspiring NHL hockey player, Steve is a regular at the local ice rink. But when he bumps into figure skater Tony, a fascinating new world and an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity unfolds in front of Steve's eyes: Pairs skater Tony is in dire need of a new partner.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 38
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was greatly inspired by [@hackedmotionart](https://twitter.com/hackedmotionart) and her incredible scribbles. Please go check them out [here](https://hackedmotionsensors.tumblr.com/tagged/figure-skating-au).
> 
> Please be aware that I will add tags as we progress because I don't want to give too much away as of now, but I won't change the rating.

Steve was leaning against the wall right next to the flat’s door with his arms folded, waiting. The edge of the door frame was pressing uncomfortably through his T-shirt into his back by now, and all he could hear was the regular ticking of the wall clock as its hands moved forward inexorably. Steve shifted his weight from one leg to the other and looked up at the clock face once more. He had been standing here waiting for almost ten minutes now.

"Have you seen _any_ of my practice jerseys?", Bucky's muffled voice called out of the depths of their flat.

"No," Steve called back, rolling his eyes. "Grab one of mine."

Bucky's bedroom door squeaked as it swung open and his heavy footsteps rumbled down the hallway. Steve heard Bucky hurry into Steve's room and open the wardrobe. Wooden doors slammed shut again with a clatter and a moment later Bucky appeared in Steve's field of vision. He had thrown the blue jersey over his head but had not yet put his arms through the sleeves. Like a scarf, it was hanging around his neck as he dragged his hockey bag behind him down the long hallway. Alpine was hopping along excitedly and Steve began to fondle her white fur to keep her from climbing into Bucky's open bag.

"Almost ready," Bucky said breathlessly, putting his arms through Steve's jersey. It sat so slackly on him that it puffed up at the sides as Bucky spun around twice in search of his shoes. Steve didn't comment that, but just pointed to the shoes he was looking for, in a corner of the entryway under the coat hooks. Alpine exploited the second Steve was distracted to jump into the bag.

It was almost nine when they finally turned into the car park of the Chelsea Piers Sports & Entertainment Complex. Bucky had lost things from his open bag in their stairwell twice before he had turned around again to fetch his water bottle he had forgotten in the kitchen. After they had finally managed to squeeze all the bags, water bottles and themselves into Bucky's little red Toyota, rush hour traffic had done the rest, clogging not only the Brooklyn Bridge but also apparently every single other street in New York City.

"We would have been faster on foot," Steve muttered. His mood had just hit rock bottom.

"You're free to walk next time," Bucky returned as he pulled over to park crookedly. For a brief moment, Steve seriously considered it. But as he heaved his heavy hockey bag out of the boot, almost dropping it on his foot in the process, he dismissed the idea rather quickly. Bucky fished a scrunchie out of the legroom of the back seats before he too threw his bag over his shoulder and locked the car's doors.

Steve didn't wait for him, but was already walking down the well-packed rows of cars towards the main entrance. They had intended to be here an hour ago and had thus once again wasted valuable practice time. While the rink was still open until noon and could be used by everyone during that time, that also meant it was actually being used by everyone. And the later in the day it got, the less space they had on the ice for their own training.

They should book private practice times, Steve thought as he stepped into the shadow the large building cast on the ground. That way they would have the rink all to themselves, for as long as they wanted. Or rather, for as long as their money lasted. Booking slots was expensive, especially here in Manhattan, where only the elite trained, and their budget just wasn't enough for that at the moment. That would hopefully change in the future, but for now Steve was just glad that there were open hours they could come to at all. The rink over in Brooklyn, while much closer to their flat, was reserved 24/7 for the Falcons and their various offshoots. Even now, during off-season, it was impossible to get a free slot there, even as a team member.

Steve was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts when he collided with something. Actually, with someone. The other, who had unexpectedly crossed his path from the left, stumbled to the side as Steve rammed his shoulder.

"Watch where you're going!", the young man complained once he had regained his footing and looked at Steve in anger. He had to be about Steve's age, but he was considerably shorter and lighter, which explained why the collision had knocked him off his feet so badly. Steve instantly felt guilty for having been so inattentive.

"Sorry" he muttered. "I was lost in thought" He couldn't help but stare at the other one. There was something about the man that Steve couldn't describe. A strand of his carefully combed dark hair had fallen in his face and he ran his fingers through his hairdo to put it back in place. But instead, only more strands of hair fell down.

"Be glad I didn't sprain my ankle in that tackle," he said. "Believe me, you couldn't afford that." His pointy chin could have appeared arrogant as he lifted it to look smugly up at Steve from below, but it didn't. It appeared rather cheeky, almost flirty, to Steve, who was just standing there, not knowing what was happening.

As Steve searched for words, the anger disappeared from the other man’s brown eyes.

"I haven't seen you around here before," he said, now completely unabashedly examining Steve from top to bottom several times. "You're awfully big for a figure skater."

It was a strange statement and everything about it confused Steve, but obviously an answer was now required of him. "I... um... I'm Steve," he stammered, "I'm Hockey."

It was only when the other one grinned that Steve realised how stupid his half-finished sentence had sounded.

"Hi, Steve," he said. "Well then, I'm glad our paths literally crossed, but I have to get back on the ice or my coach will kill me. Maybe I'll see you around sometime" He winked, turned away and strutted off, his hand raised for a nonchalant wave.

"I'm Hockey??" Bucky had obviously caught up with Steve again. He stared at Steve in disbelief, who blushed instantly as he also became aware of how awkward the situation had just been. Frantically, he tried to come up with an explanation that didn't sound absolutely ridiculous or just make things worse. But he only struggled helplessly for words while gesturing vaguely and Bucky broke into laughter.

"That lad really got you tongue-tied, didn't he? The last time you were stuttering like that was when you asked Sharon out for prom." Being reminded of another embarrassment didn't help to drive the heat from Steve's cheeks, but it finally loosened his tongue.

"Are we here for chitchat or do we want to skate?", he asked, in an attempt to change the subject. "We'd better make the most of the time we have left." The prospect of finally getting on the ice, combined with Bucky's guilt, worked. And Bucky dropped the topic because he didn't want to be responsible again for them unnecessarily wasting time.

Just as the unexpected collision had dispelled Steve's bad mood, the cold head wind on his face now dispelled the awkward feeling the conversation had left him with.

He pushed off powerfully with his skates, bent into his knees and swung his arms along with his steps as he made a few quick laps around the ice to warm up. But although he tried hard to banish the figure skater from his thoughts, he seemed to be stuck there persistently. Steve didn't even know his name, but the way he had looked up at him, had grinned at him and had eventually strode away just wouldn't let go of him. His very presence had taken over the entire room, captivating Steve as well. And now the encounter reverberated in his head, like a song that played the same part over and over again in a continuous loop because you hadn't heard the end.

Steve braked with verve beside Bucky, spraying him with ice dust. "Legwork?", he asked and Bucky groaned, but nodded and glided over to the boards to gather some small cones. The exercises their coach had given them to improve their legwork during off-season were quite demanding, even for them, and unless Steve wanted to fall right on the first exercise, he had to be completely focused on it.

And it served its purpose perfectly. The serpentines and difficult turns in which they challenged each other kept Steve busy enough to push the figure skater out of his mind and he didn't think about the man for the rest of the day.

It was only in the evening that he was unexpectedly reminded of him again.

"Bucky, did you use up the eggs?", Steve asked while inspecting the contents of their fridge. There wasn't much to see, though.

"Yeah, why?", Bucky replied from the adjoining living room. Steve sighed and closed the fridge again.

"Maybe because I wanted to eat them?" He looked down in disappointment at the pan he had already placed on the cooker, and in which no omelette was now happily sizzling away.

"Well, so did I," Bucky retorted, apparently unaware of any wrongdoing, "Just go over to Bravo and get some new ones."

Steve conceded defeat, realising that Bucky had a point. Steve just wasn't used to having things in the fridge eaten away from him, unless he explicitly marked them with a large S. And even that didn't always stop Bucky. So Steve fished some change out of the bowl on the window sill and slipped into his shoes.

"Can you get some bananas?", Bucky asked loudly over the sound of the television just as Steve reached out for the door handle. Steve shook his head in disbelief and opened the door without answering. Immediately Alpine scampered in on nimble paws and tried to get past him and into the stairwell. With his foot, Steve pushed the cat aside and closed the door behind him. "Thanks!", Bucky called after him.

Steve walked down the street lit by the evening sun with his hands in his pockets. The supermarket was only one block away and after a few steps the large yellow and blue sign came into view. Steve entered the shop and instantly was struck by the conditioned air, which was cooler but no less stuffy than the air outside. He dodged a man coming towards him in the vegetable section and pushed himself past an elderly lady who seemed to be despairing over the different types of apples. He reached past her for the bananas for Bucky and walked further into the shop. In front of the shelf with dairy products a young mother with a pram was blocking the entire aisle while she tried to calm her crying child. On impulse, Steve turned left, took a detour through the beverages section, slipped past a group of teenagers in front of the alcohol and snatched the last package of eggs. A man behind him, gave him a nasty look as Steve quickly made his way to the checkout with his loot before it could turn into a full-blown fight. He got in line behind a woman who was talking loudly to someone on the phone, filling bystanders in on all the details of a certain Samantha's love life. Steve tried to tune her out and let his eyes wander over the magazine display beside him.

 _Love After Heartbreak_ the People Magazine headlined over a large portrait of a person completely unknown to him. Steve read the name underneath, but that didn't help him either. His eyes roamed over the other faces of the “Stars” and cover models, who all looked unfamiliar to him, until his gaze caught on someone.

 _Get Back In Shape!_ was the headline, written in black letters next to a face he had already seen once today. Steve had a closer look at the magazine, but there was no doubt. The young man featured on the cover had his hands casually on his hips and was looking up at Steve with brown eyes and a pointy chin. It was the very one with whom Steve had made such a rough acquaintance this morning.

Suddenly curious, Steve examined what was written next to him on the magazine. _Tony Stark - Back on the Ice_.

Tony Stark. Steve rummaged in his memory as to whether the name sounded familiar in any way. He couldn't recall having heard of him before, but he also had to admit that apart from hockey, he had never really kept up with any other sport. This Tony could have been an Olympic champion in figure skating, yet Steve probably wouldn't have known about it at all. Steve's eyes fell on the mobile phone in the woman's hand in front of him, an engraved and polished logo gleamed at him from its back. It was a Stark Phone, state-of-the-arts. Just a week ago, Steve had seen the pictures of people camping outside Stark Unlimited's headquarters in Manhattan to get their new smartphone right at release. He turned back to the magazine and pondered. But Stark wasn't a particularly unusual name, so that could be as well a coincidence. Before Steve could reach for the magazine, the queue moved forward and he had to pay his purchases, which he had almost forgotten about.

With the bananas tucked under his arm and the egg carton in his hand, he made his way back to their flat, his thoughts once again revolving around Tony Stark. He felt a little regret for not taking the magazine with him. But to go back now, and to make his way through the crowded supermarket again just for that, seemed a bit silly to him. He was very interested in what Tony had to say in an interview and what had made him take a break from figure skating. And most of all, he was curious what Tony had accomplished to earn the honour of appearing on the cover of Men's Health. Next time Steve would meet him at the rink, he could maybe just ask him about it. At least if he managed to get more than half a sentence out in his presence.

But Steve did not meet Tony at the rink the next day. Nor the day after that. He began to wonder if it had really been an outrageous coincidence that they had met here because Tony had deviated from his usual ways. Or maybe he wasn't on the ice every day. Steve had no idea what a figure skater's training routine was like, but he assumed that just like hockey players, they also had some kind of technique or strength training off ice. Every morning when Steve and Bucky entered the rink, Steve's gaze would automatically turn to the left. But apparently Tony was not regularly to be found where Steve had knocked him over. And when they would leave the rink at noon, Steve would once again risk a glance in the direction of the figure skating rink, only to lower his head in disappointment afterwards.

The first time Bucky noticed the look, he grinned slyly. The third time, he laughed. The fifth time, he just rolled his eyes. Finally, the seventh time, Steve halted so abruptly that Bucky, who had been a few steps behind, walked straight into him. Bucky complained, but Steve wasn't really listening. He had just spotted a shock of brown hair in the very doorway Tony had also taken after their collision. Emblazoned in large letters above the glass door were the words _East_ _Rink_. Steve had never been on the East Rink before. Since it was permanently booked, Bucky and he solely trained on the West Rink. The East Rink, was the realm of figure skaters and people who could afford private times. Steve was neither.

His eyes drifted through the glass and to the large grandstand beyond.

"I think I'll stay a little longer," he then said and felt his cheeks heating. Bucky raised his eyebrows. But then he just shook his head and reached out for Steve's bag to take it back with him in the car.

Steve pushed the door to the East Rink open and stepped into the stadium. He found himself at the bottom of the grandstand that stretched the entire length of the large rink and eight rows of seats above his head. The familiar chill of the ice rink seeped through Steve's track jacket as he let his eyes wander over the ice. Scattered skaters were spread across the spacious area, each seeming to be practising on their own. For a moment Steve's gaze lingered on a woman with short blonde hair who was spinning so fast that the blue and red of her unitard were blurring in front of his eyes and Steve was getting dizzy from watching. But when she finished her pirouette with an elegant exit, she seemed to have no trouble going straight.

Steve tore his gaze away from her as she launched into another spin and continued scanning the ice with his eyes. He didn't have to search for long. Tony had claimed the centre of the rink and seemed to be skating expansive serpentines there. Steve heard the scraping of the blades as he alternated between his left and right leg making turns. Steve had no idea what exactly he was watching, but he was amazed by the ease with which Tony executed the moves. He almost seemed to float over the ice.

As discreetly as he could, Steve climbed the steps of the grandstand and sat down in the last row at the very top, hoping that the skaters down there, especially Tony, would not spot him up here. The sounds of the blades on the ice no longer reached up to him here and now it really looked as if Tony was floating. With his arms stretched out to his sides and his posture absolutely straight, he turned and changed his direction and the foot he was standing on so quickly that Steve couldn't keep up, but could only watch in fascination.

Tony finished his performance with a wide lunge and then smoothly glided on both legs to the boards, where a red-haired woman was waiting for him. They seemed to speak briefly and Steve saw Tony put his hands on his hips and nod. Then he turned around and began to float in large arcs over the ice again.

Steve couldn't tell if Tony was skating the same thing again or if it was something new. All he saw were the elegant turns that were like a dance without music and Tony's head gracefully following every motion. Steve watched Tony making his circles, then slowing down in front of his instructor, who gave him feedback before he returned to the centre of the track and skated the sequence again.

This time Steve tried to memorise the series of steps. An arch to the left, standing on the left leg, two... no, three twirls. Then backwards, crossing over and transferring to forward again with the left foot... or was it the right foot?

Steve gave up and settled back to just watching. Tony had to be able to recite this sequence in his sleep, had certainly done it hundreds of times, but Steve couldn't recognise a single element properly, let alone memorise or even skate it. He felt a growing respect for Tony and for all figure skaters.

Tony repeated the routine five more times before the coach nodded, obviously content. He made a few more casual laps around the entire rink, playfully dodging the other skaters on the ice, and Steve decided it was time for him to leave. It looked like Tony was about to finish his session and then he would potentially see Steve sitting up here or, even worse, approach him when he got off the ice. Quietly, Steve sneaked back down the stairs and headed back towards the lobby as discreetly as he could, hoping that Tony was too busy skating to notice him.

On his way to the nearby underground station, Steve's thoughts were still spinning as fast as the blonde woman he had seen on the ice. He tried to come up with words for what he had just witnessed. But all that came to his mind was _magic_. The last time something had enthralled him like this, he and Bucky had been at Madison Square Garden attending a game of the New York Rangers. Rookie Sam Wilson had scored the crucial goal in the last minute, thus winning the game for their team. But that had been a completely different atmosphere. The heated emotions in the stadium as they had experienced a historic moment in Rangers history first hand had been nothing compared to the mesmerising performance Steve had just witnessed. It puzzled him that figure skating, a sport he had never really noticed, suddenly exerted more fascination on him than the sport he considered his passion and had been following since he was a little boy. And at the same time, he couldn't help wanting to see more.

"What time is it?", Bucky asked sleepily, poking his head out of his bedroom. "I thought we were going to leave later?" Confused, he ran a hand through his hair, which was sticking up wildly in all directions.

"Half past six", Steve replied, walking past him with his gym bag shouldered "Don't stress, I just want to do something before practice. I'll meet you at the rink later"

"Okay", Bucky yawned, closed his door and dropped back onto his bed with a thud that Steve heard all the way down the hall.

Steve, however, was wide awake as he left the flat, threw his bag into Bucky's car, and walked light-footed towards the underground station. Fortunately, he was spared the crowds. Apart from him, the only other people in the carriage were a young man wearing a tie and carrying a briefcase, and a woman dressed in bright orange, holding her construction site helmet loosely in one hand. When Steve got back to the surface in Manhattan, the sun was still low and just breaking its way through the mist rising from the Hudson River. Steve could count the cars parked in the lot in front of the Chelsea Piers Complex on one hand and he was sure he had never been here this early before. Steve sucked in the fresh, pristine morning air for a moment before entering the building and turning resolutely left towards the East Rink. Then he stopped, rooted to the spot. Through the glass door he could see that the rink was still completely empty and the ice smooth and untouched. But outside the glass door a familiar face had looked back at him.

Tony grinned and winked at him before turning back to his conversation, unperturbed. "I polished the sequence in the middle yesterday, runs much more smoothly now."

"Great! So we can dedicate ourselves to the Toe Loop combination today," his dialogue partner replied, tucking a strand of her short brown hair behind her ear. "Gwen and Peter had it in their programme for Boston too, they landed it of course, but their timing was a bit off. I think we are able to pull that off better."

Steve saw Tony shift his weight from one leg to the other and run his hand pensively over his chin before he opened his mouth to say something. Just then the door next to Steve was opened and out of the locker room came Tony's red-haired trainer, whom Steve had already noticed yesterday.

"Why aren't you guys warmed up yet?", she chided the two of them. "The door is open. March!" Tony pushed open the large glass door and held it open for the woman he was talking to. "After you, Miss Van Dyne," he joked. She gave a little curtsy and entered the arena. Tony followed her, but Steve could have sworn he had quickly looked back to him once again.

The coach caught the door before it could fall shut again and looked at Steve appraisingly. "The rink is booked."

"Yeah, I...," Steve cleared his throat, "I was hoping to watch the practice."

Her eyes narrowed. "Who are you? A spy from the Jersey team?"

"No, I'm a hockey player. Brooklyn Falcons." He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the Bronx. "I just want to watch."

She eyed him for a few more seconds, then jerked her head toward the inside of the stadium and let Steve walk past her. As he climbed back up the grandstand, he saw Tony and Miss van Dyne lacing up their skates while they continued their conversation. Steve thought it unnecessary to bury himself in the back row again, instead he stayed mid-height. Tony had seen him anyway, there was no point in hiding.

Heat surged through Steve as he thought of how Tony had winked at him. What must he think of him now, turning up out of the blue at the crack of dawn to watch a private training session? Steve regretted coming here at all and he made himself very small in his seat in shame, which was an impossible task given his size.

"Come on ladies, skate-in please. We don't have all day," the coach exclaimed and Tony and the other skater began to skate big eights on the ice, making use of the whole surface. Steve couldn't help smirking because the exercise was so familiar to him and for the first time he had a feeling of knowing what Tony was doing down there. It was also the first thing he did himself when he got on the ice, whether it was just with Bucky or with the whole team. He had skated those lying eights hundreds, if not thousands, of times and had watched them at least as often being skated by other hockey players. But Steve had never seen anyone take the turns so elegantly. Tony pushed off powerfully with his outside leg and kept it straightened for a brief moment while gliding on the inside leg only, before crossing over the outside foot in front and pushing off with the inside leg. Steve knew the technique inside out, but Tony's execution was so different that he had to look closely to be sure it was the same. It had nothing in common with the crouched skating of a hockey player and yet was no less powerful.

After quite a few laps, Tony swiftly swung round to backwards as he passed the intersection of the eight and began to doing backwards crossovers while maintaining his skating track. This too looked quite familiar to Steve, although personally he always liked to skip the backward skate-in. It simply made no sense to him when the goal was in front of him.

Tony finished the last eight with a little turn and glided back to the boards to take off his red training jacket. The black long-sleeved shirt that was revealed underneath was so tight that Steve thought he could see every muscle underneath, even from up here.

With a few forceful strokes, Tony moved back to the centre of the rink and began to glide along serpentines on one leg, turning around his own axis as he went. Again and again he changed the direction of rotation and the leg he was standing on, never once forgetting to include his arms, so that all his movements looked as if they were made of one piece, flowing and graceful.

He had been on the ice for just ten minutes and they had already entered territory where Steve, although he had been playing hockey since childhood and had practically grown up in skates, was out of his depth. He could switch from forward to backward and back again, but anything else was clearly beyond his expertise. He probably wouldn't immediately fall if he tried, but he certainly wouldn't look particularly elegant doing it. In fact, none of his movements ever looked elegant.

Tony transitioned back onto a larger arc and skated with powerful strokes back to the centre of the hall. For a second he paused on one leg, gliding towards the centre, and then, Steve barely caught how it happened, he leapt straight up into the air, spun around and landed safely back on one leg with a scratching sound and arms outstretched to the side.

Steve had the sudden urge to applaud. Then it occurred to him that they were still warming up and that this jump, or whatever it had been, was probably daily business for Tony. Steve leaned further forward in his seat and watched spellbound as Tony performed more of these jumps with absolute ease. Even when a single rotation in the air turned into two, he seemed undeterred. Steve could barely jump one rotation and that was only if he was allowed to land with both feet and had no skates on. Although he had been skating for years, what Tony was doing here was in a whole different league.

After both Tony and his training partner had executed a few jumps, they both glided back to the boards to join their coach. Steve saw Tony cast a fleeting glance up the grandstand and he quickly leaned back in his seat again, as if the whole thing was neither new to him nor exciting in any way. But his cheeks were already glowing again.

Tony's training partner elbowed him in the ribs and he turned back to their coach to listen to the instructions. Without the background noise of other skaters and their companions in the arena, Steve could hear what was being said this time, "Okay, Toe Loop combination. Three, two, two on the short side. Tony on the outside, Janet on the inside."

The words reached Steve's ears but his brain failed to put them together in any meaningful way. The only thing that stuck was the first name of Tony's partner. The two of them however seemed to know what to do with the instructions, because they turned around and started skating side by side. Steve watched in fascination as they moved so identically they looked like two reflections in a mirror. Their strokes had the perfect length, they set down their feet at exactly the same time and as they approached the short side of the rink they turned at the very same second, as if on cue, although Steve could not detect any signal or sign.

They jumped three times in quick succession and Steve didn't manage to count how many times they rotated in the air, but when they landed, with both arms and the left leg stretched out wide, they did that in perfect sync too. At least from Steve's point of view. The coach, however, seemed to have a different opinion.

"Tony, the second was too far out, the third jumped off too late. Janet, your right knee is still too high," she called out to them from the centre of the rink as they finished on a wide arc around her. "Again."

Tony and Janet circled her, skated towards the short side again and leapt off. This time Steve tried a little harder to count the rotations but failed again. Was it two? Or three?

With a scrape of their blades they both landed again and although Steve could see absolutely no difference from before, the coach said, "Better. Janet, knee down. Bring your ankles together. Tony, remember to turn out the free foot on landing. Again."

With the next jump Steve tried to focus on the details the coach was pointing out. But everything was happening so fast he couldn't spot anything and the fact that he didn't know the terminology didn't help either.

"Tony, don't pick in so hard, it's not a throw. Janet, you need to pay more attention to Tony, you're supposed to be jumping this at the same time."

Again and again they went through the same sequence and to Steve each jump looked the exact same. Yet he couldn't take his eyes off it. If it were up to Steve, Tony was welcome to practise this jump a thousand more times. He didn't believe he would ever get tired of watching it.

"I should have known I’d find you here," said a voice much closer to Steve. Startled, he looked up and into the face of Bucky.

"Buck, what are you doing here already?", he asked in surprise.

"Already?", Bucky replied. "It's almost nine, I was waiting for you over there."

"What?" Steve turned to the large digital display on the wall in dismay. Bucky was right. Steve had been so absorbed in watching Tony and Janet that he had completely forgotten the time. Only now did he notice that they were also no longer alone on the ice, but that several other skaters were practising alongside them again, all of whom Steve had obviously entirely blanked out. Now he didn't know how he hadn't noticed them and stood up hastily. "Sorry, I somehow lost track of time".

"You don’t say!?" Bucky grinned. "Seems to have captivated you quite a bit," he teased as they descended the grandstand steps together. "You could say that...", Steve replied, looking over at Janet and Tony once more, who were taking a run-up to jump their combination for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Eyes ahead, soldier," Bucky said, punching him in the shoulder. "Are we here for hockey practice, or are we here to ogle figure skaters?", he asked, and Steve blushed. He didn't feel like he was ogling, he had just discovered a new sport he liked. But if Bucky thought of him that way, then Tony was possibly thinking the same.

Steve cast one last glance back at him and Janet and got the heavy glass door knocked against his head as a receipt. The headache accompanied him through the entire training session and when they arrived back home that afternoon, a painfully throbbing bulge had formed just above his right ear.

With a bag of frozen peas pressed against his head, Steve shuffled into his bedroom and flopped down on the bed. For a few seconds he lay motionless, enjoying the relief the cooling on his head brought. Then, without looking up, he reached beside the bed and grabbed his smartphone from the bedside table. He rolled onto his side so the peas stayed in place by themselves and opened Google on his phone. For a moment he hesitated, thumbs hovering over the touchscreen. Then he typed in "figure skating jumping" and pressed search. In seconds, hundreds of articles explaining the several jumps were suggested to him. Steve blinked in bewilderment. He hadn't known there were several. He pressed the first headline "Toeloop, Salchow, Axel - A guide to Figure Skater’s Jumps at the Olympics" and started reading the article.

The various names of the jumps and their edges were still buzzing around Steve's head when he went to sleep that night. And when his alarm clock jolted him out of sleep the next morning, he had a vague image of Tony in a diamond studded jacket in his mind. Smiling casually, Tony jumped off one leg, flew seven metres into the air, spun there a dozen times in all directions, did a backflip and landed light-footedly on one leg again. Steve rubbed his eyes to get rid of the image. He really needed to stop thinking so much about figure skating when he was already dreaming about it.

But this resolution dissolved only a few hours later, just when he and Bucky were about to leave the rink. Steve had caught a glimpse of a shock of red hair through the glass door to the other rink. And when Tony's coach was there, Tony had to be there too.

"Again?", Bucky groaned as Steve wordlessly handed him his bag. Steve couldn't think of an innocuous answer, so he just shrugged. Bucky rolled his eyes and trudged away loaded with two hockey bags.

Steve pushed open the door and peered into the East Rink. The first person he recognised was the blonde skater, but this time she didn't perform any dizzying spins, instead she was gliding backwards across the ice on one leg, stretching the other one up so high it looked like she was doing the splits while standing. When she lowered her leg again, she spun on the spot briefly and then looked over at a tall blond man who nodded at her in approval. Steve's gaze dwelt on his broad shoulders for a moment in irritation. With that stature, he would have expected him to be in hockey rather than figure skating. But the circles he skated were in no way inferior to Tony's elegance, even if they seemed a little less light-footed.

Steve watched him for a while, then he remembered why he had come here and let his eyes wander around the rink. He spotted Tony at the far end of the ice and Janet was there again, too.

Steve's heart leapt with joy as he made his way up the grandstand steps. He passed a blonde woman dressed all in black in one of the lower rows of seats who didn't seem to be paying any attention to what was happening on the ice, and was just scowling at her smartphone. Several other seats in the grandstand were also taken. Steve recognised a middle-aged man whose black hair was already greying at the sides and was sure he had seen him here before. The brown-haired woman a few rows above him also looked distantly familiar. Steve guessed they were parents, siblings or partners of the skaters who regularly watched their training. For a moment Steve deliberated which of these three categories he best fitted into. But he discarded the thought before he could get too deep into it and sat down in his newly chosen favourite seat. Centred over the bench where Tony and Janet had their belongings stored and only a few rows up, he had a good view of everything and could still hear most of what was being said on the ice.

Steve turned his attention to Tony and Janet who seemed to be working on a jump again. Steve watched as they took a run-up backwards, paused for a second, then shifted to forward and in one smooth movement catapulted themselves each off their left leg and into the air.

 _Axel_ , it popped into Steve's head. He remembered the articles he had read yesterday about the different jumps and how the Axel was the only jump that was launched from forward.

Janet landed back on the ice a millisecond before Tony did, which clearly Steve wasn't the only one to notice. The coach shouted to them, "Either Janet needs to jump higher, or Tony needs to jump less high. Work it out!"

The two seemed to confer briefly and then took another run-up. This time they landed as if on a dime, but Steve saw Tony's foot wobble on the ice when he sprung the landing. The coach said nothing and Tony just raised his hand to indicate that he had noticed it himself.

As they repeated the jump, Steve counted the rotations. Two. Double Axel it was. Steve observed their movements more closely now, noticing how they gained momentum, kept their arms and legs pressed tightly together as they rotated, only to straighten out and balance themselves at the exact moment of landing. The whole sequence of movements seemed meticulously rehearsed and optimised down to the last muscle. Steve could only guess what amount of energy they released with each individual jump, not to mention combinations of several jumps.

"Okay good. The whole passage once more to finish," the coach said and Tony and Janet slowed down in the middle of the rink. For a moment they seemed to catch their breath, then they straightened up and began to skate in unison towards the long side of the rink. They picked up speed, jumped and landed the double Axel that Steve had just seen. But now they didn't skate back to the coach, but kept going, holding each other's outstretched hand, Janet leading the way, Tony following her.

Steve watched their movements closely, eager to see what would happen next. They shifted and now they were moving forwards again, holding on to both of their hands and pausing briefly in that position. Steve looked even more closely. By now he knew that after these pauses there was almost always something special happening. And indeed it looked as if Tony was gathering momentum with his free right leg, but he only changed to Janet's other side with half a turn.

Steve leaned back in his seat a little disappointed, somehow he had expected more. Together, the two of them spun across the diagonal of the rink before Tony ended backwards and Janet forwards and they glided along a small exit arc.

When they let go of each other and skated back to the coach, she was standing at the boards with her arms folded. "The jump was good. So was the transition. I can't say anything else about it." Tony nodded and looked down to the floor. Janet looked at him with pity. And Steve didn't know where the gloomy mood came from that suddenly prevailed down there. After all, the jump had been good, even the strict coach had confirmed that.

The three of them retreated to the boards as two other skaters took their chance of having the vast area to themselves for a moment. They caught Steve's attention when they started with a jump combination and he realised it was the same one Tony and Janet had practised yesterday. He tried to identify the jump but it was so fast that he couldn't see whether they were leaping off from left or right, whether they were picking into the ice with the tip of the blade or not. He only saw that they were leaping from backwards, so it couldn't be an Axel.

With an elegant turn, the two took hold of each other's hands and in a split second Steve realised it had to be the same figure Tony and Janet had skated just a moment ago. The blonde woman gathered momentum just like Tony had done, but instead of changing to the other side of her partner, he seemed to whirl her around and lift her up over his shoulder. High above his head she towered on his hands, legs stretched straight out to the sides as he twirled across the diagonal before he brought her back down on the ice apparently with no effort. Steve marvelled and watched as the two skated back to the corner where they had been training, pleased with themselves.

Steve turned his gaze back in Tony's direction.

"Janet, I'm grateful you're practising with us, so we can do at least a little bit," the coach said, "But Tony, you need a proper partner." The statement hung heavy in the room as the other pair took up speed with scraping blades and performed another lift. "Or even a female partner, if you're willing to relearn."

"Finding a female partner would probably be easier," Tony said contritely, glancing over at the tall blonde man who was now standing by the boards talking to a black-haired woman in a purple track jacket. "There's not many men out there who can lift me."

"Think about it, Tony. The registration deadline for the Sectionals is in four weeks." Tony ran a hand through his hair and Steve grasped the problem. Tony hadn't been skating the part the man usually skated. He was not the one lifting, he was the one being lifted. Steve's gaze now also wandered over to the tall blonde guy. He was sure that one could lift Tony with ease. He was also pretty sure that he himself could lift Tony. He was a good two heads shorter than Steve and lean, but Steve was no figure skater. He knew barely one jump and as soon as he even attempted one, he would almost certainly have a painful encounter with the ice. Leaving the ice voluntarily, in any direction, was not part of his repertoire as a hockey player.

Figure skating looked great and Steve could watch Tony practise the same jump over and over for hours. But that was Tony's world, not Steve's.

As he descended the grandstand's steps, he repeated it like a mantra in his head to convince himself. He was a hockey player. Not a figure skater.

And yet the thought did not let go of him. When they trained on the West Rink the next day, his own practice didn't quite manage to liberate him from his brooding this time as well as usual. More than once he caught himself thinking about the edge he was moving on, or he heard the coach's voice in his head, "Head up, knee down!"

As a result, he played poorly. If it had been just him and Bucky, it probably would have been half as bad. At worst, it would have earned him a silly crack and a friendly jab in the ribs. But today, of all days, their friend Sam had agreed to train with them. And especially in front of Sam, Steve was very unwilling to make a fool of himself.

He tried to pull himself together and focus on playing. But even though they were just casually passing the puck to each other, integrating goal and cones in different simple variations, it didn't escape Bucky or Sam that Steve was in bad form. When he failed the fourth time on an easy goal shot, Bucky vigorously braked right in front of Steve's nose and eyed him. "Are you okay?", he asked, and beneath the brotherly mockery Steve heard genuine concern.

"Yeah," Steve assured him, "Just got a lot on my mind right now."

"Doesn't surprise me," Sam said, also skating over to them. "Draft's next weekend, you can get nervous. I know I definitely was."

Steve nodded and gratefully accepted the excuse the older man offered him. Bucky continued to look sceptical, though he didn't probe further as they resumed playing. But it wasn't the upcoming NHL team selection that made him nervous, he was pretty confident that some team would take him. And while it might not be the Rangers, he had played well enough last season to be on every team's radar. It was Tony who was literally spinning in circles in his head.

They hadn't spoken another word since their collision. Steve had always made sure to leave the stadium before Tony came off the ice. Now, in retrospect, it felt like a stupid thing to do. He hadn't wanted Tony to think he was a creepy stalker. But just watching Tony without talking to him probably came across as even weirder. Maybe he should start with that before he worried about skating as Tony's partner.

"Steve!" The shout snapped Steve out of his thoughts and he only just saw the puck whiz past his stick and away through his legs. Bucky looked at him accusingly from across the rink and Steve turned around to get the puck back into the game.

He was still embarrassed about having been tunnelled two hours later. Bucky and Sam thankfully refrained from teasing him about it when they returned to the locker room to shower after their trtaining.

"Sam and I are going to grab a drink in the lobby before we head to Five Guys, you in?", Bucky asked, rubbing his wet hair dry with a towel. Steve hesitated to give him an answer. Sam only trained with them once every fortnight. Or even less. And their relaxed hangouts, complete with post-training burgers, were the real highlight of these sessions. But a quick glance at the clock told him that Tony was still training for another half hour over at the East Rink.

His silence apparently told Bucky all he needed to know. "Shall we pick you up at the East Rink before we leave?", he offered, half annoyed, half amused. Steve just nodded, relieved that he didn't have to explain it. After all, he couldn't even explain it properly to himself.

"Why? You got something else going on?", Sam interjected and Steve quickly turned to his bag to hide the fact that he was blushing.

"Stevie's been enjoying watching figure skating lately," Bucky said knowingly and Steve heard him grin.

"Nothing wrong with that. The ladies over there are pretty good," Sam replied.

"I don't think he's watching the ladies..."

Steve's face was burning and he took extra time to put his jerseys, towels and all his protective gear away neatly so he wouldn't have to turn around and face them.

"Ooh...", Sam made, but seemed at a loss for another reply. As quickly as he could, Steve zipped up his bag and swung it over his shoulder. He hoped his face had returned to a more or less normal colour as he turned to his training partners. Bucky was still standing there shirtless with only a towel around his waist, Sam at least was already wearing pants again.

"See you in a bit," Steve managed to say and left the locker room in a hurry. With quick steps he crossed the lobby and entered the East Rink.

Tony was still there and apparently he was practising without Janet again today. With the heavy bag on his shoulder, Steve sat down in one of the lower ranks and was struck for a moment by how much closer to the ice one sat here. From here he could even tell if Tony was picking the ice or not. At least from time to time. Most of the jumps still happened far too fast for Steve to spot anything at all. Still, he watched carefully and tried to figure out what Tony was jumping. He believed he recognised a Flip, but it could also have been a Lutz.

Tony finished his session with some very impressive spins. How he managed not to lurch disoriented around the ice as he skated towards his coach afterwards was a mystery to Steve.

It was only when the two of them left the ice and headed straight towards him that Steve remembered how far down he was sitting. Steve’s flight instinct kicked in when Tony was suddenly in such reachable proximity. But Steve was determined to talk to Tony today. And more than just "Hi, I'm Steve." But all the phrases he had been working out last night suddenly seemed to have disappeared from his mind.

"How's finding a partner coming along?", the coach asked as they both covered their blades with guards to protect them on their way across the rubber floor.

"Lousy," was his reply. "The only one who could lift me is Thor. And apart from the fact that he's not a pairs skater, he's also got his season all planned out." Tony slumped heavily onto the bench with his belongings and reached for a large water bottle. "Pepper said she'd give it a try. She used to skate pairs too it seems, but firstly that was years ago and secondly I'd have to relearn everything then." He paused for a moment and stared grimly at the rink in front of him. "I don't even know if I could lift Pepper... she's so... _tall_." He sighed and began to untie his skates.

The coach shook her head. "Well, you have to decide on something if you want to get anywhere close to the Nationals."

"I know, I know," Tony said, carefully tucking his skates into the large bag under the bench. "But can you think of anyone else?"

"I could do it"

Steve had uttered it without giving it a second thought. Tony and his coach both turned to him and for the second time today he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"I mean... I could probably lift you." Tony had risen to his feet and was looking at Steve with an inscrutable expression. His coach looked downright perplexed. "Are you a figure skater?", she asked. Steve shook his head and opened his mouth, but Tony intervened. "No, he isn't. He is hockey." Tony grinned smugly and Steve blushed even more as he was so uncomfortably reminded of their first encounter and his embarrassing mental blackout. "And a stalker. But I could actually forgive him for that."

Steve wanted to sink into the ground right on the spot. Why had he said anything at all? Why hadn't he left when Tony's training had finished, as he had always done the last few days?

The coach eyed Steve intently now. "He's right, though. He could lift you." Tony turned to her, aghast, as if she had deeply and personally offended him.

"Nat?! Did you listen to me? He's a _hockey player_!" Tony put extra emphasis on the last words and then turned directly to Steve again. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the offer, but it takes a lot more to be a figure skater than just owning a pair of skates."

"I know," Steve said, "I've been reading up a bit, learning jumps and stuff."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "He's learnt jumps," he repeated, turning back to his coach Nat, "He's practically a professional then." Obviously he was hoping for support from her, but she remained silent and Tony spoke to Steve again. "Have you ever executed a jump like that? Or even attempted it? Can you do a spin? Do you even know what edges are?"

"I know what edges are," Steve said. Tony might be right about a lot of things, but Steve wasn't going to sell himself short. "And as for the rest... I'm a quick learner." Tony shook his head in bewilderment.

"Tony, I don't think you have a choice," Nat finally said seriously. "If you want to make it to the Nationals this season, this is your best bet. The registration deadline isn't far off and you said yourself that you can't find a partner."

"But...I...", Tony stammered under his breath and ultimately turned away with his arms folded.

"What's your name?", Nat asked.

"Steve."

"Well, Steve, if you're really serious about this, tomorrow morning, 7 o'clock, here. I can't promise anything, but we’ll see what we can do." Steve nodded at her and looked over to Tony's back. This was not how he had imagined their conversation.

"He'll get over it," Nat said casually, now taking off her skates too.

"No, I... No," Tony said suddenly, turning back around and pressed an index finger to Steve's chest. "You know what, I've changed my mind. I don't appreciate the offer. I don't know what's going on in your head, but let me tell you this: You're not a figure skater! You're a hockey player. And you should stay one if you know what's good for you.” Steve stared at him and Tony continued, “There are three things you can recognise hockey players by from three miles off, do you know what they are?" Steve shook his head in perplexity "Broad shoulders, thick calves and an annoying bunch of testosterone filled friends. The latter is standing there at the door watching us and I'm not going to let you humiliate me in front of your hockey pals. Are we clear?"

"I didn't...", Steve began, but obviously Tony didn't even want to hear his answer because he turned back around, grabbed his bag and stomped angrily past Steve and Nat towards the doorway. Steve looked after him unhappily. He had not only embarrassed himself in front of Tony, again, he had just made a huge mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💕 I want to thank all the people that read the first chapter and left kudos and so very kind comments. I am really into this special AU and I am super happy you guys are enjoying it as well.
> 
> 🎨 The amazing [@vindemiatrix-moonpies](https://vindemiatrix-moonpies.tumblr.com/), who has to endure me screaming over figure skating once in a while, made some art after reading the last chapter and it's just too good to not show it! Which is why this chapter has art, and I love it!

"You know this is madness, right?" Bucky said and followed Steve down the corridor towards their front door. Seeing him awake this early surprised Steve as much as Alpine, who stood confused in the doorway of Bucky's room, eyeing him closely. He was still wearing his pyjamas, but he kept talking persistently to Steve who refilled his water bottle in the kitchen. "What the hell were you thinking, Steve?"

"I don't know, okay?" he replied. "I just ..."

"Didn't think at all," Bucky finished the sentence for him. Steve stowed the bottle away in his gym bag.

"Yeah, maybe," he admitted as he shoved his way past Bucky and back into the hallway.

"Then don't go," Bucky suggested. "Tell them you changed your mind."

"I can't do that Bucky," Steve said as he slipped his shoes on. "They're relying on me."

"Yeah, Stark in particular," Bucky interjected. "Forgot how excited he was about you and your suggestion." Steve averted his eyes as he took his jacket off the hook. He didn't need somebody else to remind him that Tony was not fond of the idea. Yesterday’s conversation, or rather Tony's emotional outburst, had already been running more than enough circles in Steve's head. It had taken him all night to push the feeling of being unwanted to the back of his mind. And Bucky had just brought it out again.

"Are you at least coming over for a game afterwards?" Bucky asked, but Steve pulled the flat’s door shut behind him without answering.

But he thought about Bucky's words all the way to the tube. He could still just turn around and go back to bed. Tony and his coach would wait for him in vain and then come to the conclusion that he was not reliable. Yeah, no. Definitely not an option.

He could tell them that he had changed his mind, just like Bucky had suggested. Tony would probably put on a superior smile and forever label him as the hockey player who had fantasised he could be a figure skater. That would probably be the best way to lower the chance of getting to know him better down to zero. Although it was already pretty low at the moment, Steve would prefer not to let it drop even further. Since he had left the rink yesterday, he had tried to convince himself that he had simply caught Tony on the wrong foot with his impulsive offer. But the more he thought about Tony's words, the more he got the feeling that it was something personal. And that worried him more than the prospect of executing dangerous jumps on the ice.

When he arrived at the sports centre, he felt nauseous. And when he saw Tony leaning against the door to the east rink, it didn't get any better. The red of his track jacket seemed to glow through the empty and still half darkened lobby but his face was harsh and dismissive. It had nothing left of the cheeky grin that Steve knew, and when he approached, Tony folded his arms and just eyed him.

Steve hesitated, as he came to a halt in front of him, then he decided to go with an innocuous "Morning."

Tony just nodded and said nothing. In the silence that followed the air that surrounded them seemed to thicken and suddenly Steve found it unusually difficult to breathe. "Do you have a changing room over here?" he asked, looking around uneasily.

"Sure," Tony said without changing his expression and nodded towards the door behind Steve. Quickly, Steve turned around and fled to the safety of the changing room, grateful that it was empty. As soon as the door had closed behind him, the air seemed to return to a normal density and Steve took a deep breath.

He should have stayed in bed, he thought, putting his bag down on one of the wooden benches in the middle of the room. Tony was acting colder than the ice they were about to share and he was obviously completely unwanted here. Steve tried hard not to be discouraged by that as he took off his shoes. He had made his reckless offer because Tony hadn’t been able to find anyone else. Yes, figure skating fascinated him somehow, but mainly he had wanted to do Tony a favour. But that this idea had backfired badly, had been clear the moment he had uttered it.

He changed into his thermal skating leggings and yanked his shorts out of his bag. Just as he was about to put them on, he paused. When he had packed the bag, he hadn't worried about it, but now it seemed wrong to him to show up for figure skating in his padded hockey shorts. He looked at the shorts and pondered. He didn't have anything else on hand, but he couldn't get on the ice in just his leggings. Not only would a fall really hurt, but he also looked quite ridiculous in them. Steve put on the shorts and was glad that he had at least swapped his hockey jersey for a simple blue T-shirt. His green track jacket, however, clearly displayed the branding of the Brooklyn Falcons.

He stored his jacket and the big bag in one of the lockers and sat down on the long bench in front of it. Leaning his back against the metal door he closed his eyes for a moment. What exactly was he doing here? He was a hockey player. Not a figure skater. Tony had made that very clear to him. And nothing was stopping him from leaving. Nothing but his own pride. Steve sighed. Damn this pride. He just couldn't go without trying it at least once. And maybe Tony really would snap out of it, as Nat had said. Maybe Steve could win him over somehow. He might not impress anyone with his non-existent figure skating skills, but his greatest strength had always been perseverance.

More or less determined, Steve stood up again, grabbed the smaller bag with his skates and stepped back out into the hallway. Tony had disappeared, but Steve spotted him and his coach in the arena of the east rink and opened the large glass door to follow them. He became painfully aware of the fact that Tony had been waiting for Janet during their joint training sessions, but now obviously showed no consideration at all for him.

By the time he reached the bench as well, Tony had already put on his skates and was again blatantly eyeing him.

"Nice shorts," he said as Steve sat down next to him. "Afraid to fall?"

Steve didn't respond, but just took off his trainers and got his skates out of their bag.

"You're not going to skate in those, are you?" Tony said, who obviously had nothing better to do than to pick on Steve in one go.

Steve forced himself to look up at him. "Why not? What's wrong with them?"

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling dramatically, before he said, "The length of the blade, the weight, the restricted ankle mobility and no toe pick?! Nat!" He turned to her looking for backing.

"It'll do for now," she said with a critical look at Steve's skates. "But you're definitely going to have to get some new ones, if this is going to be a long-term thing."

"It won't," Tony interjected from the side, "so don't worry about it."

Steve looked down again and continued to lace up his boots. Nat scowled at Tony and twitched her head in the direction of the rink, instructing him to start with the skate-in. He raised his hands in defense, "I'm just stating what everyone here is thinking," before he got up and walked over to the entrance of the rink.

Steve followed him at some distance and was very relieved that their skate-in exercises were the same. The familiar lying eights restored some of Steve’s confidence, which was badly needed. Even though Tony was trying to impart something different to him, Steve was no beginner on the ice and it felt good to start the session with something he was as routinised in as brushing his teeth.

Steve stayed on the track Tony led around the rink. Being able to watch his smooth movements from up close now was very distracting, but Steve tried as best he could not to look too intently. He was very much aware of Nat's gaze on him and wanted to make a good first impression on her at least. So he dashed across the ice with quick, powerful strokes, always making sure to maintain the same distance to Tony.

As they passed the intersection of the eight for the tenth or eleventh time, Tony made an energetic turn to travelling backwards. The transition caught Steve by surprise and he missed the moment to do the same. For the entire wide arc they skated opposite each other, Tony backwards, Steve forwards. Steve was very aware that although Tony's head was turned in the direction he was travelling, his gaze kept briefly darting back to him and he was glad when they reached the intersection again. At its midpoint, Steve also transitioned to backwards effortlessly, escaping Tony's scrutinising gaze. The next moment, however, he realised that Tony now had a clear view of his behind, which made him even more uncomfortable.

Tony veered out of the eight on a small curve and glided backwards towards Nat at the boards. Steve switched back to forwards, which was definitely his stronger direction, and followed him.

Carelessly, Tony threw his track jacket out of the rink and onto the bench. Again he was wearing the tight long-sleeved shirt and as Steve approached him, he realised that his earlier assessment had been correct. He could see every muscle underneath.

Steve also took off his jacket and hung it neatly over the boards while trying hard to blame the sudden heat in him on the physical activity and not on the fact that he was about to skate with Tony.

But Nat seemed to have other plans for the time being. "Okay, your technique is quite good.”

"For a hockey player," Tony added, but Nat ignored him.

"We need to work on your posture, of course, but that shouldn't be a problem." Tony snorted. Again she ignored him.

"What will probably be more difficult are the basics regarding spins, turns, edges, flexibility. I’m sure you don’t lack strength but we'll have to iron out some idiosyncrasies you got from playing hockey."

Tony had his arms folded again and was demonstratively looking elsewhere.

"Let's check your edge control first," Nat said. "Small one-legged forward serpentines. Up the rink on your left leg, inside edge, outside edge, then back down on the right leg, inside edge, outside edge. Can you do that?"

Steve gulped.

"Inside edge means you glide on the side of the blade that is facing the other foot," Tony said precociously.

"I know what edges are," Steve replied. It was the _one-legged_ that worried him and suddenly he was glad he had put on his padded hockey shorts after all. A slight feeling of fear crept up his spine but he tried not to let it show as he skated to the centre of the rink. He had never needed to be on one leg only while playing hockey and he was absolutely sure that he would already fail at this very first task. Both Tony and Nat would likely kick him right out of the rink and declare him incapable. But at least he would be leaving standing tall, because he had tried.

Steve took one deep breath before he made two steps forward, picking up some speed, and carefully lifted his right leg.

And put it right back down.

He felt Tony and Nat watching him as he made a second attempt, while going a little slower. But again he was lurching poorly on one leg and quickly put the other one back down before he was about to fall.

"Okay, wait," Nat called and Steve prepared for her to tell him he could go home now. But instead he heard her skating towards him.

"Chest out, shoulders back, head up," she said, and with a few well-directed firm touches forced him to straighten up. "Knees remain bent, arms out to the left and right."

Steve stretched his arms out long and immediately felt stupid. He knew Tony was also using his arms to maintain balance, but he made it look different, elegant and subtle. Steve, on the other hand, felt like a kid balancing on a log.

"Shoulders down," Nat said, pushing them down. "Tension all the way to your fingertips." She slapped his hand lightly and Steve straightened his fingers.

"When I push your hand down, your arm has to stay up. More tension. Better." She reached for his waist without hesitation and it was clear to Steve at once that this woman had no reservations about touch at all. "Tighten your core. Abs, back, waist all need to be tense." She slapped the palm of her hand against his stomach to get him to tense up the muscles. "When you compensate for movements, do it with your ankles and in your knees only. Your upper body stays steady at all times." She shoved different parts of him in place and Steve remained standing exactly that way as if frozen and barely dared to breathe.

"Chin up," she said, pushing it upwards. "Fix a point on the wall, don't look down at your feet." Steve looked at the wall of the arena in front of him and focused his gaze on an I dot on one of the billboards that hung up there.

"And now again," Nat said and stepped back a few metres. "Two intro steps and right leg up, forget the serpentines and edges for now."

Steve tried to remember everything she had just told him as he pushed off again. Chest up, head tight, abs focused... 

He was sure he was neglecting at least half of her instructions as he concentrated on lifting his right leg but the staggering he was expecting did not occur. To his great surprise, he held himself relatively steady as he glided on one leg for a few metres. Then he ran out of speed and had to put both feet down again.

"Much better. Again," Nat said.

It took Steve several repetitions until he believed he had memorised all the details of the correct posture. Then they changed to the other leg and he had forgotten everything on the spot. But it took him a lot less tries this time before he managed to glide on only the right leg as well.

Tony, in the meantime, had started to skate in bored circles in the other half of the rink, occasionally rotating on one leg.

"Good, now back to the edges," Nat said and Steve pulled his attention away from him. "One-legged serpentines, alternating between inside and outside edge. Remember to keep your torso stable, the movement comes from your legs."

Steve tried the serpentines again and after Nat's drill he could actually complete four arcs without putting the other leg down. He was absolutely sure he didn't look graceful doing it, but he managed to finish the exercise as she had told him to.

When he had completed both legs twice, he came to a stop in front of Nat. Over her shoulder he saw that Tony had stopped skating circles and was standing motionless in the middle of the ice. When he noticed Steve looking over at him, he averted his eyes and began to perform pirouettes.

"Not bad," Nat said and Steve turned his eyes back to her. "You have a general control of the edges, we just need to teach you how to use them." For a moment a cocky remark was on the tip of Steve's tongue. Of course he had control over the edges, he had been skating for over 15 years. But considering his first pitiful attempts to just lift one leg, he chose to withhold it. It was probably unwise, being the new guy on the team, to act like an insufferable know-it-all.

As if that was his cue, Tony suddenly rejoined the conversation. "Yes, basically he can do everything already. We just have to teach him figure skating," he said as he stopped beside them. "In two months. Nat that's a waste of time, he'll never make it."

"Do you want to go to Nationals this season?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"And do you have another partner in mind?"

"No."

Nat nodded, Tony grimaced. Then she turned back to Steve. "Turns," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "On both legs no problem, I assume." Steve demonstrated it and she nodded reasonably satisfied, even though Steve suspected there was something wrong with his posture.

"If you want to turn on one leg, make sure you keep your core and your arms stable. You rotate your body in unison with your foot." She showed him what she meant and turned on her left foot from forwards to backwards while gliding on a small arc. "We call this the three turn and it’s the foundation for everything that is to come. If you can't do that, we don't need to continue."

Steve tried it. It was wobbly and clumsy, but it worked. Somehow.

Tony circled around them and performed exactly what Steve had just attempted but flawlessly and gracefully and several times in a row. Steve followed him with his eyes.

"Tony, that's enough!" Nat yelled. "We've all noticed that you're not thrilled. If you're bored, practice your triple Salchow but stop being a show-off here."

"I'm not doing anything," Tony said with an innocent tone that fooled no one. "I'm just figure skating here." Nat folded her arms and Tony immediately caved in. They didn't get an apology, but he retreated to the other side of the rink again and began to jump.

"It was a bad idea," Steve muttered more to himself than to Nat, but she replied, "Maybe not the smartest, but you seem to have potential. Getting you up to senior level before the Sectionals is going to be one hell of a feat, but you could do it if you really want to."

"I don't know if I really want to anymore," Steve admitted frankly, "Not when he acts like that around me."

"He's not mad at you," Nat said.

"Sounds different though."

She shook her head. "He's mad that his only option is a hockey player with no prior experience. If he'd found a figure skating partner, we'd be already working on the programme by now."

"Instead you have to teach me the basics, I get it," Steve said and stared at his skates.

"He doesn't think you can catch up and I can't even blame him. Figure skaters practice for years to get to senior level. And if you don't make it, then this is in fact a huge waste of time and more of a hindrance than a boost for Tony's career. That's why I need you to be absolutely sure that you can put 120% of your energy and time into this sport from now on."

Steve hesitated. The NHL draft was only four days away. All his life he had been striving for that moment when he would hopefully be picked to play for one of the major hockey teams of America. He couldn't just drop everything he had worked for all at once because a cute figure skater didn't have a partner.

"I'll give you until the end of the week," Nat said "That's how long I can justify coaching you too, without Tony's performance suffering from it. By then I need your final decision."

Steve felt nauseous again right away. How was he supposed to make this important decision in just four days?

Nat's expression had become professional again. "Well," she said and eyed him, "Flexibility." Steve tried to estimate his own flexibility. He wasn't bad, better than Bucky by any means, but he didn't know how flexibility could be measured to give Nat a definite answer.

"Simple splits?" she asked. Steve shook his head aghast and Nat sighed. "I thought so. How high can you get your leg in a standing position?"

"I...never tried it before," Steve admitted. And he feared that if he tried it now, out in the middle of the ice with nothing to hold on to, a fall would be inevitable. Standing on one leg and gliding was all very well, but yanking it up in the air was a whole different story. Steve saw Tony gliding away in the background, standing on one foot with the other one raised well above his head. At least Steve could say with absolute confidence that he could not get his leg up that high.

"Okay, we'll get back to that this afternoon," Nat said when she saw the look on his face.

Until the end of the session, Nat challenged Steve with various figures and arcs on one leg. And when they had to make way for the ice resurfacer, Steve didn't feel quite as ungainly as he had had at the beginning. For the most part, he was now able to suppress the impulse to put his foot down again as soon as he had lifted it, which was definitely progress. He wouldn't call himself stable yet, but he couldn't deny that a certain routine had already set in.

He skated to the exit of the rink to be surprised by the small crowd of skaters that had formed there. Steve had been so busy with his own exercises, he hadn't even noticed how the space around them had slowly got crowded.

When he left the ice and reached for his blade guards on the small table next to the entrance, Tony had already pushed his way past him. He grabbed his training jacket and water bottle from their bench and walked over to the other skaters that were waiting outside the boards for the ice to be refreshed. Apparently Tony couldn't even stand his company during the break and it hurt Steve more than he wanted to admit.

Since Nat was also standing a few metres away, talking to another coach, Steve dropped onto the bench alone. Groaning, he stretched out his legs. His shins felt unusually exhausted from the effort of balancing on one leg and his shoulders were also not used to keeping his arms up for two hours straight.

He looked up at the digital display on the large clock. It was just past nine. Usually he and Bucky entered the ice over on the west rink at this time. But instead of having an enthralling hockey battle with his best friend, he was now sitting here alone, waiting to be subjected to another two hours of humiliation from Tony.

Sullenly, Steve fished a cereal bar out of his bag and began to peel off the paper. Not for the first time today, he wondered why he was here at all. Why didn't he just let figure skating be figure skating and stuck to the things he knew. The things he was good at. Why was hockey suddenly not enough for him anymore?

He bit into the cereal bar and grimly crushed the grains between his teeth. His gaze wandered over to Tony, who was leaning casually against the boards, talking to a black-haired woman. He had apparently lost all his bad mood as soon as he was no longer near Steve and was now laughing exuberantly with her. Probably about me, Steve thought and took another bite. And probably rightly so.

Nevertheless, he had put himself in this situation and giving up was out of the question. The thought of Tony over there blaspheming and laughing about him seemed to only fuel Steve's defiance. He shoved the last bit of the cereal bar into his mouth and tossed the paper back into his bag. He would show Tony and this woman that he was perfectly capable of learning figure skating. Maybe not well enough to actually make it to Nationals, but he wasn't a lost cause.

Tony only came back to them when the ice resurfacer was gone and the rink was shining smooth and fresh in front of them again.

"So what now?" he asked as he stowed his water bottle. "Are we going to learn how to skate on the other leg now?" He raised his eyebrows but Nat just pointed at the ice without a word and he shrugged and began to skate in. Steve followed him in defiance.

The second session turned out to be more successful for Steve, even though it was considerably more strenuous. He noticed how his strength was starting to run low after three hours on the ice, but he also noticed that certain basic patterns in his movements were slowly establishing. Nat had to remind him a lot less often to keep his arms straight and to tighten his core.

Tony didn't come over to them once during the whole session and Steve didn't have to endure any more mockery from him. The few times Steve risked a glance in his direction, he was practising jumps on his own, or was engrossed in a conversation with another skater. They left the ice around noon, and while Steve was completely worn out, he felt nowhere near as bad as he had after the first session.

While Steve packed his skates away, Nat reminded him that she expected him to be back at one o'clock to assess his physicals for an individual workout plan. Tony, however, didn't say a word and left the rink with his track jacket thrown over his arm and his bag open. Steve promised Nat to be there on time and shuffled out of the arena. Now that he was wearing shoes without blades again, he really felt how tired his legs had become from four hours of unfamiliar movements.

When he pushed open the door to the changing room, the first thing he saw was a broad back. It belonged to the blonde skater Steve had noticed before, but whose name he still didn't know. Then his eyes fell on Tony, who resolutely turned away from him as Steve entered the room. While Steve got out of his hockey shorts, all he could see was Tony's back.

He might have stared a few seconds too long at the toned muscles that showed under his skin as he took off his shirt. But Tony seemed to either not notice his gaze, or consciously ignore it. Either way was just fine with Steve at this moment.

He waited until Tony had put on a fresh shirt before he took the chance.

"Listen, Tony," he said, and immediately addressed what was on his mind without giving Tony time to interrupt him. "If you really don't want to skate with me, I get that. And then I'll stop right away. But at least give me a chance before you reject me. I can do this. Nat thinks I have potential too"

"Oh, does she?" Tony said, and turned around. "I've heard that myself before. Fifteen years ago. Nobody starts with figure skating at 18, Steve." He did have a point there. But Steve just shrugged. "Won't stop me from trying."

Tony stared at him, then he shook his head. "Let me know when you've come to your senses and I no longer have to share my valuable and rather expensive time on the ice with you."

He grabbed his bag to leave, but Steve had risen to his feet.

"Tony?" he said loudly and Tony stopped and turned back to him.

"Steve?" he retorted in the haughty mocking tone he had been putting on all day.

"You asked me not to humiliate you in front of my hockey pals. I didn't, and I never intended to. You, on the other hand..." Steve paused, not knowing how to describe Tony's behaviour. "Can you give me your word that you will stop humiliating me in front of your figure skating pals?"

"If you give me _your_ word that you will stop trying to be something you are not." Tony countered.

"I can't"

"Then I can't guarantee anything," Tony said and left the locker room without another word to Steve.

Disgruntled, Steve packed up the rest of his things and he felt the eyes of the other skaters in the room on him. Tony's words echoed in his head. Not because he had been unfair, but because he was right. Hadn't today's sessions clearly shown that he was not a figure skater?

No, another very stubborn voice in his head said. Today's sessions had shown that he could actually do it. Granted, he had just caught a glimpse of how much work was still to come in order to catch up with all the things Tony had spent years of hard work learning, but it had also shown him that it was possible. Or at least that Nat thought it was possible.

He was still thinking about whether his endeavour was heroic or insane as he left the changing room and headed towards the exit of the sports centre.

"Steve!" he suddenly heard someone say and turned around. Bucky was coming out of one of the changing rooms of the west rink, his hockey bag shouldered.

"Hey," Steve said, a little uncomfortable. "How was your training?"

"It sucked," Bucky replied, catching up with him. "Because you can't play hockey on your own." The uneasy feeling in Steve grew. "And my long-term game partner dumped me because he'd rather do figure skating now, even though the draft is this weekend."

Steve looked down at the floor in embarrassment before he noticed that Bucky was grinning. "I'm kidding. How was your first lesson? Can you do triple flic flacs now?"

"Flic flacs are not allowed in competitions," Steve replied and a huge weight fell off his chest. He had enough things to deal with as it was. Had Bucky been seriously mad at him as well, his head would probably have exploded. But despite his passionate speech in the morning, Bucky seemed to be taking things quite relaxed now.

"You want to grab some lunch?" he asked, pointing to the small canteen adjacent to the lobby.

"Yeah," Steve said. "But can we get something elsewhere? I need to get out of here for a moment."

As they went to the nearby supermarket in Bucky's little car, he listened attentively to what Steve had learned today and how unfairly Tony had treated him. Steve's mood changed from enthusiastic euphoria to deepest rock bottom faster than the New York traffic lights from green to red. And when Bucky dropped him off again at the sports centre, the only silver lining for Steve was that he wouldn't see Tony again this afternoon. That, at least, was what Nat had assured him, even though Steve wasn't keen to have her inspecting him and his muscles closely, for several reasons. His legs still felt exhausted and he had a feeling that Nat had planned to extend that to his whole body.

When Steve rolled out of bed the next morning, the slight ache had evolved into a real muscle soreness. His legs reminded him expressively that skating could be something that strained the muscles and as he entered the rink, he was already dreading putting his skates back on. Something that hadn't happened to him for a long time.

Tony hadn't paid him any attention at all this time, but had just walked past him without greeting or even giving him a glance. Steve tried to be positive about it. If Tony ignored him, at least he didn't have to put up with stupid comments.

Nat arrived a few minutes later and held out a pair of black leather skates to Steve. "Shoe size eleven?" Steve nodded and took them. "You can use these for now, but you should definitely get your own pair if you really decide to stick with it."

Steve could literally hear Tony swallowing a comment next to him. He decided to take that as progress. 

"You'll probably need the whole first session to get used to them," Nat continued, "Just do as many laps as you need and repeat the exercises from yesterday. I will work with Tony on his jumps today."

Steve nodded again. He was quite content to practise on his own for now. And most of all, he was glad that this would prevent Tony from getting any more opportunities to pick on him.

He slipped into the leather boots and began to lace them up, struggling for a moment to get the laces around the many hooks in a way that sufficiently fastened the shoe. It felt very different from the hockey skates he had grown to love and his first steps on the ice were as unsteady as he hadn't felt on skates for a long time. Including the disaster he had experienced yesterday.

The first fall didn't take long to occur as Steve pushed off and promptly tripped over the toe pick. His elbow and knee hit the ice first as he lost balance. When his hip followed he deeply regretted leaving the padded hockey pants at home today. He felt Tony's gaze in his back and picked himself up again without looking at him. His knee and hip hurted badly and he could already feel the bruises emerge but he didn't want to give Tony any further targets.

_( Art by the amazing[@vindemiatrix-moonpies](https://vindemiatrix-moonpies.tumblr.com/%22) )_

Steve managed to get through the skate-in without another fall, even though the unfamiliar jags on the tip of the blade scraped across the ice and threw him off balance more than once. He had to think about each step individually, which at least ensured that he was too busy to notice Tony's glances. And when he started to repeat yesterday's exercises on his own, he also found it surprisingly easy to concentrate only on what he was doing and not on what Tony was doing at the other end of the rink.

It was only when Steve left the ice at nine to make way for the ice resurfacer that his thoughts returned to Tony. He was very surprised to see him sitting on their bench. He had expected him to run off to the other skaters again, as he obviously couldn't stand being around him.

Silently, Steve sat down next to him and took a big sip of water. He hadn't realised until just now how much his mouth had dried out while he had been busy practising on the ice.

"How are the new skates?" Tony asked. For a brief moment Steve thought he actually wanted to have a serious conversation with him all of a sudden. Puzzled, he lowered his bottle but then he saw the snarky grin on Tony's face.

"Fine," he replied defiantly. "How's the triple Salchow?"

"Fine," Tony retorted no less defiantly.

"Keep telling yourself that," Nat said and came over to them. Tony opened his mouth to protest, but a single look from his coach silenced him. Steve deeply admired this ability.

"I've finished your training plan," she said, handing Steve a thin folder. "On-Ice, Off-Ice, strength, plyometrics, flexibility, ballet, theatre," she listed. "It's all in there, starting today."

Steve gulped as he flicked through the pages and reached the weekly overview. It surprised him that she had given him Sundays off, but that was probably more for legal reasons than anything else.

"I don't need to explain the importance of a healthy diet to you, do I?" she added. Steve just nodded as his mind was busy processing the full extent of his impulsive decision. Even if he managed to squeeze in time for his hockey training on top of this schedule, he would hardly be able to keep up this workload for more than a week.

"Ouh that is quite a packed schedule," Tony said, peering at the sheet in Steve's hand from the side. "Looks like the one I had when I was in primary school".

Steve slammed the folder shut and avoided looking in Tony's direction.

The second session of the day was both better and worse than the first. Better because Steve was slowly getting used to the new skates, even if he still tripped over the toe pick regularly. Worse because Tony's triple Salchow apparently was fine indeed and he had now returned to watching Steve in between his own spins and step sequences.

They had moved on to combining Steve’s one-legged serpentines with simple three turns by now and actually he had done quite well for the last half hour. But as soon as he saw Tony looking in his direction, Steve forgot everything Nat had been teaching him so patiently and detailed. He dropped his shoulders, forgot to move his arms along or tripped over the toe pick once again.

Nat didn't comment on this, nor did she reprimand Tony again, but just kept shouting the same commands at Steve.

He still felt like he was being watched, when he left the rink for lunch. Tony was already out of sight, but when Steve turned his head to one of the other benches he passed, he saw the blonde pair skater and her partner quickly looking away from him. He had already felt their and especially her glances on the ice and Steve couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't the only ones who were unusually interested in him.

Being pretty high up on the list of potential NHL rookies Steve was used to being in the limelight. But usually people watched him because he was particularly good at what he did, not because he was so clearly worse than everyone else around him.

Sullenly, he entered the changing room and opened his locker to stuff his skates into it. From his bag inside, he grabbed a pair of loose sweatpants and his track jacket and threw them on. He'd gotten used to wearing only leggings on the ice by now, and it felt a lot less bad when he was among figure skaters, who all seemed to favour the look. But the skin-tight pants were definitely not his favourite clothes and he didn't want to walk around the lobby in them for everyone to see.

As he went over to the small canteen, he really felt the long hours in tight new boots in his feet and in the fresh blisters on them.

The delicious smell of freshly made food hit Steve's nose as he entered the room that was filled with the clackering of cutlery on plates. He immediately spotted Bucky at their usual table in the back and made his way through the many other occupied chairs. 

Bucky pulled his hockey bag from the seat he had been saving for Steve and stuffed it under the table. Steve dropped onto the chair and his battered feet thanked him for not having to bear his weight for a moment.

"You want to go first?" he asked, not wanting to ever get up from this chair again. While Bucky queued for the food, Steve remained seated, relaxing his legs and making sure no one dared to steal Bucky’s chair.

Bucky carried a large plate of grilled potatoes back to their table and Steve groaned as he couldn’t put off getting up any longer. 

When he returned to their table he carefully set down his plate first before dropping heavily back into his chair with another groan. Bucky stared at him, then at his food, and then at him again, aghast. "What is that?" he asked.

"My lunch," Steve said, picking up his fork.

"Were the potatoes out?"

Steve shook his head and stabbed his fork into the big bowl of salad and vegetables. "I've got strength training after lunch. I can't do that after eating something heavy."

"You have what?"

"Strength training after lunch," Steve repeated.

Bucky shook his head and continued to shovel roast potatoes into his mouth. Steve tried not to look at the shimmering golden slices on his plate as he chewed on a tomato.

"But you're still coming to the gym tonight?" Bucky continued to ask.

"I don't know," Steve confessed. "I'll probably be here until five and totally knackered when I get home."

"Steve?!" Bucky said, "You never miss our gym sessions!"

Steve didn't reply to that, just stabbed a piece of cucumber.

"Was your session good at least?" Bucky asked.

Steve sighed. "I wish I could say yes," he muttered.

Bucky gave him a pitying look across the table. "How many lousy practice sessions do you need before I can have you back as my hockey partner?" he asked, but there was too much truth under the smirk for Steve not to notice.

"They are not lousy," Steve objected. "I'm learning and I'm improving. It's just not how I thought it would be."

"Why are you even putting yourself through this?" Bucky asked straight out what Steve had also been asking himself, and for which he had yet to find a satisfactory answer.

"Because..." Steve took another bite and pondered. He knew what had driven him to make that ridiculous suggestion. He had wanted to help Tony out of a predicament. Tony, however, had made it very clear by now that he didn't want Steve's help. No, Steve rectified, that was not exactly what he had said.

"I want to prove Tony wrong," Steve finally said. "He thinks it's a waste of time to even allow me to be on the ice. After all, I'm a hockey player, so I rank somewhere between the caretaker and the ice resurfacer."

"Well, thanks," Bucky snorted. Then he looked directly at Steve. "If you really think that's worth it, then go for it. But the draft is in three days..." He couldn't help grinning. "Only three more days, pal, until what will probably be the most important day in our careers." He was beaming now and already seemed to revel in the feelings of being picked by an NHL team.

Steve looked down at his plate and remained silent. Of course he was excited, and of course he was looking forward to it, but the timing couldn't have been worse. He didn't know if it was worth it, whether his plan to compete in pairs skating with Tony had any future at all, or whether he was struggling in vain, neglecting his promising hockey career to chase an elusive dream that would never come even close to true. He just didn't know. And it would take him more than three days to find out. He stabbed a piece of bell pepper unnecessarily hard with his fork while Bucky now began to elaborate on who else was on the list besides them and which NHL teams might have their eye on whom.

When they had finished their lunch, Bucky left the sports centre while Steve trotted back to the changing room. He grabbed his trainers, workout schedule and water bottle and made his way back to the east rink. Until Nad had pointed it out to him yesterday, he had never noticed the staircase at the wall. But now he ascended it alone and it felt like he was flouting a "No Trespassing" sign. The rooms upstairs were reserved for the club's figure skaters and Steve felt absolutely not like one of them.

As he unlocked the door with Nat's key card and pushed it open, the typical slightly stale smell of a gym hit him. The rooms were well ventilated, but the unmistakable odour of hard work was in the air. A few skaters were already training here, causing the weights to click together in an unsteady rhythm. Steve walked past all the high tech equipment with his head down, trying not to attract attention and retreated to an empty bench in the corner to study his workout plan.

Satisfied, though not overly surprised, he saw that Nat obviously hadn't found too much to complain about his legs. At least she had only given him moderate leg exercises. The upper body and core, on the other hand, were a different story. Steve delved into the plan and the exact order of the different exercises for a while. Then something caught his attention.

His head moved automatically in the direction from which he had heard his name. And when his eyes met Tony's, he turned away again as quickly as he could. But he saw enough to notice that Tony was not alone. While Janet was doing her reps on one of the machines, Tony was standing next to her talking. And Steve didn't need to learn lip reading to figure out what they were talking about. The fact that he had heard his name and that Tony had looked in his direction made it pretty clear.

With his jaw clenched, Steve rummaged in his pocket for his ear buds and tried to tune out the surroundings, including Tony and Janet, with loud music as he made his way to the first machine. Tony could talk all he wanted. He wasn't going to get rid of him that easily.

Steve thought he had never worked out so hard in his life, and he had spent quite a few hours in gyms. At the same time, he had never felt so uncomfortable in a gym either. Despite his body mass and despite years of experience in weight lifting, he was reaching his limits with the very specific exercises and movements Nat had written down for him. The fact that he had to reduce the weights on most of the machines, even though he was clearly the biggest person in the room, could still be concealed reasonably well. But when he settled down on one of the exercise mats in front of the big mirror panel to stretch his muscles, he could no longer hide. He tried to concentrate only on himself and not to look at the other skaters, but it was almost impossible. Although he had always considered himself fairly flexible, being surrounded by people doing splits in all directions with ease, he felt like an immobile tree trunk. Did they even have ligaments? Or bones?

But it also spurred him on to push himself a little harder and after three long hours Steve left the gym unusually relaxed. The intensive stretching had helped his battered muscles and he felt almost refreshed. Maybe he should actually make a habit of that.

But the relaxation faded, when he returned to the changing room to get his skates and was reminded that he was about to face Tony again. Tony, who had gossiped so unashamedly about him earlier. Steve had successfully managed to not give him any attention at all while they had shared the gym but he would probably be not able to hold it up on the ice.

But as he opened the door to the arena again and let his gaze roam over the skaters present, while he recognised a few faces, he couldn't spot Tony at first glance. He went over to the bench where Nat was already waiting for him. That had never happened before and Steve quickly checked the time, fearing he was running late, but he was not. Maybe Tony had forgotten the time over his chat with Janet, Steve thought, while settling down on the bench.

He slipped into his skates and his feet complained with painful aches as the boot pressed on the blisters again.

"You're ready?" Nat asked, as soon as Steve had tucked in the laces behind the skate’s tongue.

"Sure," he said quickly. "Where's Tony?"

"He's not coming. He's practising his jumps off-ice. That's currently more effective for both of you."

Steve couldn't help exhaling in relief. The next moment he hated himself for it. And then he remembered that Tony was behaving terribly rude to him, which dampened Steve's guilt quite a bit.

So Steve entered the ice alone with Nat and quickly realised that he could focus a lot better when Tony wasn't watching him suspiciously from afar. He grasped faster what Nat was trying to teach him and felt much more confident on the serpentines and edge changes. He even pulled off the turns, at which he had failed this morning, more or less effortlessly.

When Nat gave him an approving nod, Steve couldn't help grinning. He certainly had a lot to learn, but no one could blame him for not trying or for not taking it seriously.

"That was good," Nat said as they left the ice at 4:30.

"Thanks," Steve replied with relief, freeing his sore feet from the black leather boots.

"Listen," She then said and sat down next to him on the bench. "About Tony... I want you to keep in mind that it's nothing personal. Since he was little he wanted to skate in Nationals and you're his very last chance."

"You'd think he'd be a little kinder to his last chance," Steve said, staring at the skates that were still lying on the floor in front of him.

Nat sighed, "I know he is a little difficult at the moment."

Steve snorted at this gross understatement.

"Okay, yeah, he's a giant ass hole," she admitted and the corners of Steve's mouth twitched. Then he looked at Nat and finally asked the question that had been on his mind since the very first session. "Do you really think we can make it?"

She looked him in the eye for a few seconds before answering. "To senior competition level? Possible. To Sectionals? Maybe. To Nationals? Highly unlikely."

Steve nodded and looked back down at the floor. "Thanks for being honest with me."

"Figure skating is all glitter and show, for sure, but at the end of the day it all comes down to trust." She said nebulously. Then she became serious again. "I know the draft is this weekend. So I'll revise what I said yesterday, but I need your final decision on monday." Then she reached for her bag and got up. "See you at seven."

She left, leaving Steve alone with his very confused thoughts. While he pondered, he stowed his skates in the bag. Figure skating Nationals were Tony’s childhood dream. But Steve had had a dream as well. All his life, he had waited for his chance, worked hard for it, hoping the Rangers would pick him to play for them. When he and Bucky had spent long hours perfecting their moves, the prospect of playing for the NHL one day was what had kept them going. They hadn't applied for college after graduating from high school in May because their entry into the big teams of America was practically assured. In three days at the draft event they would both be offered a contract. Steve could turn his back on figure skating right now and he would have a fantastic life in the NHL, the life he had always dreamed of. And that would probably be the right decision. But something inside him just couldn't come to terms with that.

"Here's to the new rookies of the New York Rangers!" Sam said, raising his beer to the seventh toast. Bucky let his glass bottle rattle against Sam's. Steve raised his glass too, but just nodded.

"To being a Ranger," Bucky said, taking a big swig of beer before looking down at himself for the umpteenth time. "Feels good to wear this jersey"

"Oh I know!" Sam confirmed. He had undone the knot of his tie and his shirt collar was open a button further than would have been appropriate. Steve put his glass back on the wooden table and began fiddling with the sleeves of his brand new blue jersey. It still seemed surreal to him to actually wear it. The jersey of the New York Rangers, the team he had followed to so many games, which now had his name emblazoned in large letters on the back. And not only that. He would play alongside Sam and alongside Bucky. The Rangers had traded a pricey second pick to acquire them both.

"I still can't believe they picked me as well," Bucky said, putting his beer down again. "We all know Stevie is the better player." He nudged Steve in the ribs from the left.

"Not true," Steve said, "That I was ranked better was pure coincidence."

"Yeah well, they wanted the combination of both of you. Brooklyn's Double Trouble Duo. You're going to rough our Manhattan team up quite a bit," Sam said and Steve quickly looked elsewhere.

"Oh, for sure. Fun times ahead!" Bucky said laughing.

Steve took another sip of his Coke to avoid having to respond. Sam finished his beer in one go and rose to his feet. "I'm getting a new one. You want something from the bar?"

"I'm good," Steve said, but Bucky handed him his empty bottle and Sam made his way through the crowded pub.

Steve felt Bucky's gaze on him as soon as Sam had walked away.

"You're awfully quiet," he said, "Are you alright?"

Steve sighed and tried to think of the best way to say it.

"It's the figure skating, isn't it?" Bucky said and Steve once again became aware of how well they knew each other. There was no point in trying to hide something from Bucky. He just knew.

"You really are still considering it?" Bucky asked.

"Kinda."

“Steve,” Bucky sighed. “We’ve been dreaming of this since we were kids, skating in boots that were too big on the frozen lakes back then. Don’t tell me that now, when our dream is about to come true, you have doubts. Do you really want to throw away this hell of a chance for a little figure skating fun?”

“It’s not just fun,” Steve tried to explain, “Figure skating is… it’s different, it’s magical, artistic and athletic and…”

“Are you talking about figure skating or about this Tony-guy?” Bucky interrupted him.

Steve cast an upset glance at him. “It’s not just because of him”

“Yeah, sure.”

“No! Well… not only,” Steve said.

Bucky smirked, but then he became serious again.

“Don’t get me wrong, Steve, if you really want to take the leap and become a figure skater, like, a real figure skater, with competitions and all, I am the last one to not support you. You know that. But please, please, please, think this through. You're not the type of guy that makes rash decisions. But I get the feeling that this Tony is affecting your judgment. And I thought he was misbehaving anyway?!"

"It's got better," Steve said, which wasn't really true.

"What's got better?" Sam interjected and placed two fresh bottles of beer on the table.

"Tony's not acting like a colossal prick anymore," Bucky said before Steve could open his mouth. Sam's gaze rested on Steve in confusion for a second before he seemed to remember.

"Tony is this figure skater, right?" he asked and Bucky nodded. "Well then that's a good thing, isn't it?" Sam said. "I bet he can't resist you, now that you're officially an NHL player." Again he raised his beer and again Bucky joined him in a toast.

"I'm not a player until I sign that contract," Steve said quietly.

"Yeah but... you will. Won't you?"

Won't you? The words were still buzzing inside Steve's head when he entered the sports centre again on monday and he still didn't know what to answer. He felt like he was making the wrong decision no matter what he chose. If he did indeed choose figure skating, and they didn't make it to the competitions, which was probable, then he had thrown away the Rangers contract for nothing. But if he chose the Rangers, he would never find out if they could have made it. And apart from the fact that it felt like giving up to him, he wouldn't be seeing Tony then either. And no matter how rude he was to him, part of Steve still rejoiced every time he saw him on the ice, where he seemed to be completely in his element.

Steve was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice who was holding the door to the east rink open for him. It was only when Tony said "Good morning to you too" that he was snapped out of his ponderings.

"Morning," Steve replied, half ashamed that he hadn't noticed him, half amazed that he was talking to him at all.

"You know, you really need to stop brooding so much. You'll end up knocking someone over."

Steve frowned as Tony grinned at him. It was the first time he was being nice to him since Steve had volunteered to be his partner. And Steve, with all the mockery and grumpiness, had almost forgotten how gorgeous Tony's smile was. It hit him all the harder now, and for a moment it seemed as if last week had never happened. But it had, and Steve's eyes narrowed as he eyed Tony suspiciously.

"Since when are you being nice to me again?" he asked.

Tony's grin flickered and he averted his eyes. "Since today."

"What did I do to deserve that?"

"Be careful, my kindness only reaches so far," Tony said, which wasn’t an answer but Steve didn’t dare to follow up.

They headed to their bench next to the rink together and sat down to change their shoes. Steve didn't trust the sudden peace at all. The last few days Tony had preferred to ignore him instead of throwing nasty comments at him, but he had never really been nice. What had brought him to such a change of heart out of nowhere was not clear to Steve, and until he could be sure that Tony wasn't playing him, he would be very cautious.

Nat joined them just as Steve was putting on the second boot. He took his time lacing it up thoroughly and kept his head down. He knew what was about to come.

"I assume, you putting on your skates - your figure skating skates - at 7am after your draft is an answer to my question?"

Steve nodded with hesitation. He still wasn't sure if he was making the right decision. He had not yet rejected the contract with the Rangers for good. But he hadn't signed it yet either. He didn't know how long he could put it off, but maybe if they failed to qualify for Nationals, he could still join the Rangers belatedly? That at least was his temporary, admittedly very fragile, plan. But with every hour he spent here at the east rink, he seemed to drift further away from hockey and become more and more captivated by figure skating. And he wasn’t sure yet whether he liked this development.

"Good," Nat said, "Because I already signed you up for your moves in the field test. The person in charge is a good friend of mine and was able to twist things a bit so you just have to do the senior test and not all the others that are supposed to precede it."

"Just," Tony laughed, " Easy-peasy. It's just the most advanced moves test there is. No big deal." He wasn't mocking Steve this time, but Nat. It still made Steve feel queasy. "Can't I start with an easier test first, to get used to it?"

"Absolutely not, " Nat said. "We're working to a tight schedule here. You have to pass the moves in the field and the pairs test to even enter any competition. So we have to get that done as quickly as possible. And you're already halfway there. The test is meant to show that you've mastered edges and turns, that you've got your skates under control. You have. We just need to teach you the sequences."

"I'm a bit jealous," Tony said as they entered the ice together. "I would have liked to skip the million tests prior to that one too."

For the first time Steve didn't feel completely embarrassed next to him and even managed a small smile.

Together they began to skate-in and this time Steve deliberately paid close attention to Tony's movements in front of him. He tried to imitate them as best he could, kept his upper body straightened, his arms extended and tense all the way to his fingertips and stretched out the leg he used to push off long behind him.

He promptly hooked his toe tip on the ice and stumbled. Tony cast a glance back at him, but it had nothing of the taunt Steve had expected, which confused him even more. Gradually he was starting to wonder if this was really Tony, or if perhaps he had sent his considerably nicer twin to the session.

Steve picked up speed again and now rather focused on placing his feet properly and not getting tangled up again. When he transitioned to backwards in the centre, his arms were already getting heavy from holding them up straight and he was glad when he could lower them again after a few more laps.

As they took off their track jackets and placed them on the boards, or in Tony's case tossed it over and onto their bench, Nat joined them on the ice.

"We start with the sustained edge step," she said. "It's the first part and I believe, once you know the pattern, you'll pick it up pretty quickly." She turned to Tony.

"Don't look at me like that,” he said. “You know full well it's been three years since I skated that sequence."

But as it turned out, Tony did not only still know all the moves to perfection, he also didn't make a single mistake performing them. A feat Steve absolutely had to acknowledge, as the many different steps and turns blurred into a single mush in his brain.

"Don't worry," Nat seemed to read his face, "We'll go through this step by step."

And that was exactly what they did for the next two sessions. At noon, however, they had only covered a fraction of what Tony had skated at the beginning.

"We'll get there," Nat said confidently as they left the ice and Tony handed Steve his guards from the tray. "It may look like a lot, but once you have the basic pattern, the rest is just repetition. Tony, I want you to join us for the middle session at 2:30."

Tony nodded without complaining or even rolling his eyes and Steve couldn't shake the feeling that Tony seemed completely transformed. He didn't exactly miss being put down in one go, but it still struck him as very odd.

Side by side, almost peacefully and amicably, they packed up their skates and as Steve threw his bag over his shoulder to leave the arena, he heard Tony following him close behind.

When Steve reached the door to the changing room, Tony had caught up to him. Steve held the door open for him and Tony politely thanked him as they entered.

"Okay," Steve said when he couldn't bear it any longer. "What's wrong with you?" He put his bag down in front of his locker and turned to Tony.

"Nothing. Why?" Tony said absently and turned away to put his bag on the opposite bench.

"Oh come on," Steve said. "You know what I mean."

Tony remained silent as he opened his bag and rummaged around in it. Steve waited, but when he got no answer he too turned back to his own bag. Apparently Tony had recovered and was treating him like air again.

"I saw you on TV," Tony said suddenly. "I didn't know you were _that_ good."

"Okay, just so I get this right," Steve said, "You hate me because I'm a hockey player. But because I'm a _good_ hockey player, you're suddenly nice to me?" He stood in the middle of the room, completely confused, holding the training shirt he had just taken off in one hand and the T-shirt he was about to put on in the other, not knowing how to react to such an ambiguous statement.

"Yes, because that helped me realise..." Tony finally turned around to Steve and opened his mouth to finish his sentence but couldn't get another word out. Steve watched the brown eyes wander over his bare chest and quickly put on the T-shirt that had still been hanging in his hand. Tony cleared his throat and looked away.

"I saw how hard you practised. Every day. Damn, you've practised even harder than me, and just between us, that's saying something." Tony’s eyes met Steve’s and they both had to smile a little before Tony continued. "I don't know why you would throw away this huge opportunity you have in the NHL for... well, for this. And I still think it's a bad idea but that’s your decision and you wouldn't be here if you weren't really serious about it." A shiver ran down Steve's spine as Tony summed up his entire dilemma so aptly with just a few words. "I don't hate you, Steve, I never did. I know you do this for me, but I have no idea why and not knowing drives me crazy! But I appreciate it and all the effort you put in. I know I haven't exactly shown it in the past, but I was..."

"An idiot?" Steve suggested.

"I wanted to say right. But yeah, idiot may fit as well." Tony grinned and Steve grinned back. "I didn't have faith in you, and to be honest, I still don't have, but Nat thinks you can do it. And you know, figure skating may be all glitter and show, but at the end of the day..."

"It all comes down to trust," Steve finished the sentence and remembered that Nat had told him exactly the same.

Tony nodded before saying, "I don't trust you."

"Ouch"

"But I trust Nat. And she seems to trust you, so…" he shrugged, "I don't have much choice here, so I will just roll with it and let you prove me wrong. Or right, which is by far more likely." He pulled his training shirt over his head without shame and Steve quickly turned away. He knew if he looked he would soon start to stare. And he didn't want to destroy this tender offspring of an incipient cooperation right away by indecency.

In fact, this little offspring of cooperation quickly became quite a plant. Steve discovered that the long hours of training were much more bearable when Tony wasn't grumpy and snarky. When his quips weren't aimed at Steve, he could even laugh about some of them and Tony's skating advice also turned out to be very helpful.

"Try bending your free leg more," he said as Steve failed the same move in the sequence for the fourth time. It were the double rockers that still caused him the most trouble.

"Bend it, turn, stretch it out again afterwards," Tony said.

Steve tried again and completed one rocker, but failed the second. Tony glided over to him.

"Knee up," he said and showed Steve what he meant by demonstrating again how to properly skate the element. "Your leg is like this, try keep it like this. You see the difference?"

Steve saw the difference and tried, but he had to concentrate too much on the movements in his skating leg to coordinate his free leg as well.

"Okay, try to just lift your free leg the way you would, no turning," Tony said and Steve lifted his leg as he slowly glided straight across the ice. Tony skated alongside him.

"Knee up," he repeated and placed his flat hand in the air in front of Steve's free leg. "Up, up, up." Steve's knee touched Tony's extended hand. "That's it. Hold this position."

Even after he had already withdrawn his hand, Steve still felt the warm spot on his knee and it took him a few attempts to shake the feeling of this gentle touch. When he managed to bring his thoughts back to skating and reproduced the pose Tony had shown him, he finally made it through the double rocker as well.

"That's it!" Nat called to him from the boards as he repeated it and nailed it again. He glanced over at Tony, who smiled and winked at him. Steve grinned back, ignoring his knee heating up again.

Nat skated over to them. "Now you just have to repeat all this till you're sick of it. And to keep going even after that." Steve's guts began to flutter as he recalled that he only had two more weeks left to memorise and perfect the whole pattern of different moves. During the test, he had to perform the sequences on his own, without Nat or Tony shouting "The other leg," or "Left turn first," at him. And he had to work on his spiral, which still wasn't high enough. Although he had managed to bring his free leg and his upper body into an evenly horizontal position without bending his skating leg, he still had to get his free foot a few centimetres higher for the test.

Two weeks into his training, Nat had refined his workout schedule because of this and had made intensive stretching a daily routine. More than once Bucky had made fun of him when he had sat on their living room floor in the evening working on lengthening the muscles at the back of his thighs.

"Stop laughing," Steve had said, "You can't even touch your feet without bending your knees."

"True, but I don't need to, because I'm a hockey player," Bucky had replied, not even trying to hide how funny he had found Steve's struggle.

After that, Steve had moved his exercising back to his own room, where he had much less space, but where at least Bucky didn't bother him and made him question all his decisions once again. Here he just had to be prepared for Alpine to keep him company from time to time and he could live with that. At least she wasn’t laughing, but only judging him in silence.

This evening, too, the cat had snuck into the room and was lolling on his blanket watching him out of her big yellow eyes. Steve sat on the floor, jammed between the bed and the wardrobe, and tried to lower his forehead on his outstretched legs. He was already much closer than he had been a few weeks ago even if he was still miles away from doing the splits. 

Nat had casually dropped that he had to master them for the pairs test at the latest. Tony had casually dropped that she was joking. But Steve didn't want to take any chances so he kept spending his evenings in the most uncomfortable stretching positions. And especially today, he couldn't think of anything else but figure skating anyways, so he might as well put this energy to use. Tomorrow's moves in the field test had suddenly come much faster than he would have liked and even though he tried to distract himself he was already very nervous.

Even before Steve entered the sports centre the next day, his knees had become weak like jelly. And when he replaced his hoodie and sweatpants with a slim-fitting blue T-shirt and tight black leggings in the changing room, his heart was already beating anxiously against his chest.

The atmosphere in the east rink was different from how it usually was and Steve noticed it the second he entered the arena. A few spectators were scattered on the lower rows of the grandstand and most of the benches where the skaters kept their belongings were occupied. Apart from Steve, a few others would be taking the senior test today and he briefly let his gaze wander over them as he walked past. Most of them were around his age and could be identified easily from the way they uneasily paced back and forth, or sat on their benches, wobbling their knees. Steve made his way with shaky steps to the only bench that was still vacant, trying not to think about the fact that all the others here had been figure skating for much longer than he had. Although Nat had declared herself optimistic, Steve just couldn't believe that he had learned enough in barely more than a month to pass a high-level figure skating test.

He looked around and spotted Nat at the other end of the arena, talking to three people Steve had never seen here before. They had to be the judges, he thought, and quickly looked away. But his chest hurt from his heart beating against his ribs as he began to lace up his skates with unsteady fingers. In his mind he went through the sequences again and what he had to pay particular attention to in each element.

"Hey," someone suddenly said to his left and Steve looked up startled. Tony sat down next to him on the bench without hesitation. "How are you?" he asked.

"Nervous," Steve admitted.

"I'd be concerned if you weren't," Tony said and his smirk had not a hint of mockery.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked.

"Watching your test of course," Tony said "You're supposed to be my new partner. And I thought you might need some support."

Something warm welled up inside Steve, but when he remembered how much depended on this test, his blood froze in his veins. "Listen, if I fail..."

"You won't," Tony said, but his expression had become tense.

"I know we can't allow myself a second test..." Steve began, but again Tony interrupted him.

"Just... focus on this test okay? You can do it, I know you can. Good luck." Then he rose and returned to the grandstand.

Steve stayed put. He didn't know if that had calmed his mind or churned it up even more. Tony had certainly meant well, but all Steve could think about now was that this could already be the end. If he didn't pass this test, then Tony's dream of going to Nationals this season would be over. Steve wouldn't be able to retake the test for another month at the earliest and by then they had no time left to qualify. Steve's hands became sweaty and he wiped them unsuccessfully on the polyester pants. Failing was not an option.

While he and the other testees were skating in, he tried to steer his thoughts back to the patterns and sequences he had practised day in day out. But no matter how well prepared he had felt in the practice sessions, now, in direct comparison with the others, he felt like an inelegant lump and it did not help to calm his nerves.

As they left the ice after warming up and returned to their seats, Steve saw Nat waiting for him.

"You're good?" she asked with the same look on her face that Tony had had.

"Yes," Steve said, even though he didn't feel like it at all.

"You're number two," Nat said and sat down next to Steve on the bench.

At least it would be over quickly, Steve thought and took a sip of water, hoping it would soothe his stomach. It didn’t.

As the first testee entered the ice, the gold appliqués on her pretty green dress sparkled at Steve and he suddenly felt quite underdressed. Nervously, he plucked the hem of his simple T-shirt as her blonde hair fluttered behind her while she performed the turns Steve knew all too well. 

After ten minutes it was over and Steve's hands had started to shake.

"Keep it cool," Nat said as they got up. "You've done these a hundred times, you got this." Nat escorted Steve to the entrance of the rink and he removed the guards from his blades. "Remember, don't panic when something isn't perfect. Just keep going, alright?"

Steve nodded and as he stepped onto the ice, it felt more slippery than usual.

"Good luck," Nat said.

Awkwardly, Steve skated towards the other side of the rink where the three judges were sitting behind the boards at a high table.

"Hello," he said uncertainly as he came to a halt in front of them. Despite his height, he had to look up at them a little.

"Hello," the woman sitting in the middle replied. She had tied her brown hair back into a tight bun and wasn't smiling as she looked down at him. "You're Steve Rogers?"

"Yes," Steve said and she jotted down a note on her clipboard.

"Weren't you supposed to play for the Rangers?" the man to her right said, looking at Steve over the rim of his glasses. "I saw you on TV."

"Yeah," Steve said, unsure if it was an accusation, "I kinda switched allegiances."

"Yes, Natasha told me all about it," the woman said. "This is your first test, right?" Steve felt his heartbeat accelerate as he nodded.

"Alright, just perform the moves like you have been practising and don't get distracted by us. Good luck."

Steve's heart was beating in his throat now as he skated to the starting position and lined up. Taking a deep breath, he let the cold air flow into his lungs and imagined he was all alone in the arena. Then he extended his arms and pushed off. Smoothly he transitioned to backwards and picked up speed on a wide arc. Inside three turn - sustained swing change of edge - inside rocker - inside double three turn - he recited the steps in his head. Crossover and repeat.

Feeling more confident with each step, he finished the first sequence with a big curve, just like Nat and Tony had shown him, and seamlessly moved into the repetition on the other leg.

When he started into the second sequence, his knees had finally stopped trembling. The only trouble he had always had with this part of the test had been the height of his spiral. But thanks to the intensive stretching plan, he was able to execute it in an acceptable way, even if Tony would still have chuckled about the height.

When he braked on the ice after performing the sequence flawlessly, he even managed a small smile. But it froze on his face again rather quickly as he headed back to the starting point once more. He had to rally for a moment before he could start into the double rocker combination, which was in spite of Tony's helpful tips still a thorn in his side.

Steve could feel his blade shaking on the ice as he struggled to stabilise himself in the fast turns and rockers and he was sure the judges had not missed it either. He made it through both rocker sequences without skipping a move, but was sure he turned on the wrong edge at least once.

With a tight knot in his chest, he finished the sequence and glanced quickly over at the judges. But they were just scribbling away on their clipboards, not letting on whether these were good or bad notes. Steve didn't dare look over at Nat and lined up on the ice for the final sequence. He pushed the rising anxiety away and tried to keep his mind completely focused on the fast transitions that were about to follow. He couldn't even think of the names as quickly as the steps followed each other and relied entirely on his muscle memory. Finally, after filling the rink up and down with quick turns and steps, he came to a stop. His heart was racing and it was not just from the exertion of the test. He made a short bow towards the judges, as etiquette dictated, and skated over to Nat, who was still standing at the boards.

"Well done," she said and handed him his water bottle.

"I messed with the edges in the second double rocker sequence," Steve said and gratefully accepted the bottle. He was panting and drank the water in big gulps to calm down.

"You might need to reskate that," she agreed with him. "Get your free leg under control and stabilise your centre of gravity." Steve nodded and handed her back the bottle as the judges waved him over.

"We are genuinely impressed," the dark-haired judge said without beating about the bush. "Your steps were clean, your movements are quick, very powerful and sorted. Turns in general are a bit unstable though and you tend to jumble the edges. But given the time you had to prepare for this, that is still pretty impressive. If we hadn't known you used to be a hockey player, we probably wouldn't have believed it."

A slight smile crept onto Steve's face at the compliment.

"Still, we have to judge by universal standards here," she continued and Steve's smile faded. "We can't let you pass like this." Steve lowered his head in disappointment. "But you can give the second double rocker sequence another try. Keep your edges under control, especially on the turns."

Steve nodded quickly and lined up at the starting point for the sixth time. Tony's voice echoed in his head, "knee up," closely followed by Nat's, "stabilise your centre of gravity."

He took a deep breath, straightened up and pushed off. Knee up - core tight - head moving along - arms stable... The sequence had never felt so long to him. He tried to pay attention to each turn individually, but he couldn't maintain the required speed if he overthought all the edges. Halfway through the sequence, he moved on to just doing it, without thinking much, and hoping for the best. And when he finished with another bow, he was sweaty and out of breath again.

The judges seemed to be discussing the matter and Steve waited. He didn't skate back to Nat but just kept standing in the middle of the ice trying to catch his breath. All at once he came back to realise that he had an audience. He didn't dare look at the grandstand but now he felt the gazes of the spectators on him like bright spotlights that were blinding him. He kept his exes fixed on a point right next to the judges and waited. But time seemed to have turned viscous, dripping and passing slower than ever. Steve was sure that the skater before him had not been waiting so long for her result, which did not bode well.

But finally the man with the glasses beckoned Steve to come over.

As Steve stopped in front of them, he almost tripped over the toe pick again. Something he thought he had already gotten over, but his legs were so exhausted from tension and physical exertion that his movements were becoming more and more uncontrolled. If he had to re-skate something else now, it would definitely not end well.

The woman at the judges panel eyed him while he tried to conceal how nervous he was. Then she said, "Congratulations. You're a senior skater now." Only when he exhaled in relief did Steve realise he had been holding his breath. She handed him the paper sheets they had taken notes on during his test and smiled down at him.

"Thanks," Steve said breathlessly and shook hands with all three of them in turn. The man with the glasses gave his hand a surprisingly firm squeeze before saying, "I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'll be watching your season with a lot of interest." His colleagues nodded in agreement. Steve thanked them all again and as he turned around and headed for the exit of the rink, he could no longer prevent a wide smile from spreading across his face.

As he picked up the guards Nat handed him, he saw Tony running down the last steps of the grandstand. He reached them just as Steve had finished putting on his track jacket. Without any warning, Tony threw his arms around Steve's neck and hugged him fiercely. That alone was strange, but the fact that Steve was on skates while Tony wasn't, and therefore Steve towered over him by a good three heads, made the image twice as hilarious.

"Well that is unexpected," Steve said, trying to cover the moment with humour as the skin in the back of his neck had become hot. He felt blood rushing to his cheeks as Tony was so close to him all of a sudden.

"Likewise," Tony said and let go of him. But nothing in his face indicated that he was somehow uncomfortable with the situation. On the contrary, Steve had never seen him smile so genuinely. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was a new world record. Passing a senior test with that little experience?" He followed Steve to his belongings and watched as he took off his skates. Steve's neck was still prickling.

"That was very good," Nat agreed, who had followed them discreetly. "You can really be proud of yourself."

"I knew you could do it," Tony said and Steve and Nat both turned to him in unison. Steve had raised his eyebrows and Nat shot him an angry look. Tony ran his hand through his hair in embarrassment and avoided both gazes. "Yeah, I learned my lesson. No need to look at me like that."

Steve grinned contentedly and then looked up at Nat. "Do we have the middle session again today?"

"No," she said, "You better go celebrating. That was a huge step." She smiled at him and Steve rummaged in his pocket for his phone to immediately text Bucky the good news.

"You're kidding!" Bucky said, throwing his bag under the table and sliding into the seat next to Steve. Steve shook his head with a grin.

"So you really are a figure skater now?" Sam asked, putting his bag down a little more gently than Bucky and pulling up a chair from one of the other tables in the lobby.

"I guess I am," Steve said, unable to stop grinning.

"That is so wild," Sam shook his head, "You are the least elegant person I know".

"Not true, that's Buck," Steve objected and dodged when Bucky tried to punch him in the shoulder.

"Yeah, you're probably right" Sam agreed, with a superior grin from across the table where Bucky's fist couldn't reach him.

"I can be very graceful," Bucky protested.

"Can you use your grace to get us some drinks?" Sam asked.

Bucky stood up and pranced on tiptoes and with his arms slightly elevated over to the vending machine.

"Chin up, shoulders down" Steve called to him laughing.

When Bucky came back, he was carrying three bottles of lemonade, with which they toasted each other. The sweet liquid ran down Steve’s throat and was a welcome treat after the hours of struggle he had been going through.

"So, what's next?" Bucky asked as he set his bottle down again.

"Pairs test," someone replied, but it wasn't Steve. His eyes widened as he saw Tony approaching their table. "I see you really are celebrating," he said. "And you did not invite me. Rude." He folded his arms in front of his chest but he was smirking.

"If you want," Steve said, gesturing to the vacant chairs around them.

For a moment Tony seemed to consider it, but then he said, "No, I'm good. Gonna head home and rest a bit. Which you should do too by the way because the pairs test will be ten times harder than what you just did."

"Thanks for the heads up," Steve said. "See you in the morning?"

"See you in the morning," Tony replied. "Don't party too hard. Skating with a hangover is the worst." He winked before he turned around and left the lobby. Steve watched him go.

"So that is this ominous Tony," Sam said, nearly craning his neck trying to get another look at him.

"The one and only," Bucky replied.

Sam gave up and turned back to their table. "I always thought he was an idiot."

"Well he is," Bucky confirmed, "But he is kinda cute though."

"No discussion there," Sam admitted.

Steve knew Bucky wanted to tease him to get an opinion on that out of him, but he kept quiet. A realisation had just hit him and was now slowly seeping into him. Now that he had passed the moves in the field test, which was a miracle in itself, they would move on to really practising skating as a pair. He had been looking forward to that from the very beginning, and especially since Tony hadn't been rude to him anymore. But the unexpected hug back at the rink had already thrown Steve off track so much, he was seriously worried if he could handle actual pairs training and the intimacy that came with it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤ Thank you for reading!  
> 💬 Leave me a comment, I am excited to hear your opinion.  
> ✨I like to reply to every comment but don't feel pressured, I don't expect another reply from you.  
> 🌈 And please share the story on [Tumblr](https://tales-and-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641777193013460992/dancing-on-the-edge-ao3-heavily-inspired-by-and), if you liked it. That helps me and my motivation a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> ❤ Thank you for reading!  
> ✨ Leave me a comment, I am excited to hear your opinion.  
> 🌈 And feel free to share the story on [Tumblr](https://tales-and-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641777193013460992/dancing-on-the-edge-ao3-heavily-inspired-and), if you liked it.


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